The Forgotten Cooper
by Jake-O-Lantern
Summary: An evil organization known as The Numbers has plans to locate and 'renovate' a forgotten vault from the Cooper family's past. Sly, however, with the aid of both new and old friends alike undertakes a quest rife with romance, intrigue, and double-cross in an attempt to uncover the truth behind his family's deepest secret, Clockwerk, and The Forgotten Cooper.
1. A Rude Awakening

**The Forgotten Cooper**

**A fan fiction by Jacob Lorance**

**Set in the universe of Sly Cooper, slightly after the third game.**

Sly cooper and all related characters are trademarks of their respective owners. All other characters, major or not, are the product of my imagination and henceforth belong to me and me alone. This story may be redistributed anywhere as long as credit to the author (me) is given.

Chapter 1- A Rude Awakening

"Just hold on! I'm almost there!"

Sly was pushing his legs as hard as he could, his lungs burning as he rushed past the burning timbers of the collapsing building. Hopelessly lost, he skidded to a halt as he reached an unfamiliar stairwell, doubling over in coughs as the thickening as surrounded him. Despite the heat, he felt a chill as he realized he had no idea where he was. There was no-

"Sly!"

His ears shot upwards as her voice reached him. Without a second thought, he rushed up the stairs, into the inky blackness of the upper floors as he frantically followed the voice. The steps below him began to collapse, racing him upwards as he made a final leap onto the top floor. A wall of flames appeared in the doorway he was in moments before, and he stumbled forwards. His eyes, coated in grime, darted back and forth across the large room before him.

"Carmelita!"

He had found her.

A deafening crack forced him to look upright just as he was buried, the searing boards tearing his flesh to pieces as he could only hear his fox's terrified screaming getting more and more distant.

…...

Sly awoke and sat bolt upright, his breathing ragged as he slowly realized where he was. Trembling slightly, he leaned forwards and placed his head in his hands, swiping away the layer of sweat that had appeared. Taking several unsteady breaths, attempting to clear his mind of the final fragments of the nightmare, he stole a glance at the alarm clocked perched on the nightstand beside him.

"2:40," he said, coming out as little more than a labored sigh. Staring at the blurred red numerals of the clock, he shifted his weight to the side as he threw the now constricting blankets from on top of him. He internally thanked himself for deciding to wear something to sleep in as the cold air of his room struck his legs as he swung them to the side. Standing unsteadily, he looked around as he let his eyes adjust to the gloomy interior.

It wasn't too much, to be perfectly honest, but it was as much of a home as he had ever had. A small brown dresser, upon which his alarm sat, stood next to his bed. A dull red rug traced along the floor to a well-worn desk in the corner, bound in place by an old office chair tucked neatly beneath it. Topped by a collection of random papers, schematics, pens, pencils and other what-have-yous, the desk was the very same that Bentley used to keep bolted into the back of the van when they were taking their first forays into the unknown. Sitting upon it, along with the papers, was a polished silver desk lamp with 'INTERPOL' etched authoritatively into the base. A token of previous exploits, to be sure. A few various trunks and boxes rounded out the corners of the room, holding within them innumerable trinkets and memories of his past. A quickly diminishing past...

With tendrils of sleep still attempting to pull him back to bed, he shook off the unwelcome sensation and reluctantly hobbled towards his dresser, each step on the cold wooden floor more jarring than the last. Fumbling momentarily with the latch, he drew out the lower-most compartment and retrieved a worn, blue shirt and a pair of gray pants. Fighting to pull them across his sleep-stiffened body, he smoothed out the fabric as he walked towards an unassuming wooden chest at the foot of his bed. He knelt down in front of it, dispersing the dust that had gathered upon it throughout the night to reveal a stylized brass 'C' inlaid across the top, and began to toy with the tarnished lock that held the lid in place.

He let out a long, deep sigh. That nightmare... It seemed to make less and less sense each and every time it occurred, but the outcome was always the same; always just out of his reach, barely slipping from his fingers was...

"Carmelita."

Their falling out had been something Sly had tried to avoid for as long as he could manage, but he had been forced to reveal the truth eventually. A slip of the tongue here, or a reference made to something that should have been forgotten there, she soon began to piece together that his act wasn't all that it seemed. He had never seen her quite as angry as when she finally figured it out... 'Always the same,' as she had described him. 'Should have expected this.'

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, he tossed open the lid of the chest and began to dig around, feeling for his leg-pouch. Removing it from the chest, he looked at the worn, yet still bright object, running it well over with his eyes as he made note of the many scuffs and frayed seams that composed it. Fastening it loosely to his thigh, he made a mental note to have another one made so as to properly retire the aging article. As for now, however, he shrugged. Smoothing down the remaining fabric about his outfit, he rose quickly and began to make his way towards the cracked window opposite his bed. Stopping abruptly midway, he shook his head slightly as he centered his thoughts. Turning back around, he locked his eyes on what he should not have forgotten.

Attached to the underside of the lid with a series, gleaming softly yet proudly in the darkness, was his family cane. Kneeling once again, he ran his hand along the length of the smooth wooden handle and then proceeded to unfasten a latch that held it firmly in place with a satisfying 'click'. It had seen far too little use lately, having spent most of its time pinned in storage. Retrieving his family's priceless heirloom, he held it loosely with his right hand, reveling in the unsettlingly unfamiliar weight and balance of it. Grasping it firmly, he rose and began to walk back towards the window.

Sliding it open with a single, deft movement, he slid noiselessly through it. As he stood on the ledge outside of the small room, balanced precariously on the slim edging of wood, he shook his head, sighing softly. The times were changing. Or had they already changed?

He used to have it all. He and his lifelong friends, just a short number of years ago, were at their prime. More successful than they had ever been, they seemed to be off on some grand adventure seemingly every day, quite literally saving the world on more than one occasion. He had secured himself the love of his life, and everything was in order to play out smoothly. Now, however, everything was different. He was back with his friends, yes, but there were no more big adventures. Things had been quiet for the last two years; no evil organizations, no more chases, no more heists... no more fun. He should be happy that things were still going so relatively smoothly, though, he thought. He may have lost the girl, but that's life, right? You can't win 'em all, right? ...Why did it have to be that battle that he lost, though, out of all the ones he fought... Why did he have to lose the girl?

Banishing the rambling thoughts from his head, he began to make his way onto the roof of the building. His room being on the top floor, it wasn't much of a climb. Grasping the eve of the old, abandoned apartment building, his cane clenched between his teeth, he none too gently hauled himself up.

The cool Parisian air was far from cold, but the chilled night wind still did wonders to wake him further from his groggy state. Rolling his shoulders to work out the remaining kinks, he lowered himself and sat. Hanging his legs off the edge of the roof, swinging back and forth idly, he let his eyes wander across the picturesque cityscape. A lot of people would pay a lot of money for a view like this, yet here he was, internally worrying about how everything had turned out. He set his can to the side, leaning backwards onto his hands, reclining on the smooth tiles of the roof. Life, no matter how many odd turns it had taken up to this point, was good.

He laughed softly, his joy carrying across on the breeze. Life was good. He closed his eyes, tilting his head backwards and perking his ears. The warm glow of the stars above him, the soft touch of the tiles beneath him... the growing sound of sirens... the acrid stench of smoke...

A cacophony of screams began to pierce the fragile serenity of the night, his eyes bolting open. The air danced as flames licked at the sky in the distance before him.

_A/N_

_Alright, I'm in the process of going back and rewriting/editing __**every**__ chapter in this darned thing so that I can be happy with it. If you were to read the most 'recent' chapter and then come back to read this one (before the edit, of course) the change in quality would be horribly jarring. It really shows that I started this thing when I was a sophomore in high school, and I'm not completely happy with how some of it progressed. This thing has been online for a LONG time, so bear with me here as I work my way through it and bring it all up to snuff. This thing has been a blast to write, even if it did take so long to overcome the horrendous bouts of writers block I encountered last year. I got to experience so many awesome things, and discovered a love for writing that I'm still polishing up. Thank you all so much for sticking with this thing for so long, and for your continued support through your favorites, reviews, and PM's (those are the best!). I still can't quite fathom how this thing manages to be __one of the most favorited Sly stories on this site. I almost started hyperventilating when I discovered that this thing has more favorites and follows than my personal favorite story on here. Again, thank you all so much for reading, and this thing will get finished!_


	2. Out of the Frying Pan

Chapter 2- Out of the Frying Pan…

Sly raced headlong along the rooftops, disregarding all pretenses of stealth and subtlety entirely. Coming to the end of the long apartment building, he planted his cane at the lip of the roof, and vaulted over it, landing on the opposite roof 2 stories down with a grunt and a roll. He quickly righted himself and tried to keep a slow breathing pattern so as to keep up his long sprint.

His footfalls were heavy as he coiled his body like a spring. Releasing all of his energy at once, he leapt from the building and shot out his cane, hooking it to a gutter spout which groaned loudly as the weight of his body was put on it. His momentum spun him around but he loosened his grip at once to begin sliding quickly down it, his cane sending sparks in all directions as it scraped down the side. The sound of sirens and the roar of the blazing inferno only 30 yards from him grew deafening as he raced towards it. He ran up to an EMT that was on scene and spun him around. Grasping the startled ermine by the collar, he yelled at him over the blaze.

"Has everyone been evacuated!" he yelled, his voice laden with concern and what seemed like anger to the ermine in his hands.

"N-no! There are several officers still unaccounted for!"

Sly threw the uniformed EMT from his hands, who hit the side of a nearby ambulance with a resounding thud. Turning quickly on the balls of his feet, he shot towards the entrance to the large, burning building. He passed several officers on his way, which all shot him surprised glances as he passed by them at a sprint. "Is that Sly Cooper?" one of them yelled as he passed by, but it fell on deaf ears as Sly was only concentrating on what he would do as soon as he got inside.

He took the steps 2 at a time as he raced up to the entrance of the building. Throwing his shoulder against the fire weakened door, it burst open in a flurry of sparks, and he ran inside.

The realization of what he was doing was slowly sinking in, but he dismissed it almost instantly. All that mattered to him was that he made sure Carmelita was safe, it didn't matter how much danger he was in or how many police officers saw him. Surprisingly, the main foyer wasn't very smoky, so he stopped momentarily to get his bearings. He quickly walked up to the receptionist's desk and grabbed a clipboard that had a list of all the employees on it. Flipping quickly through the pages, he scanned them all looking for the name and office number of one Carmelita Fox.

"Max Edin… Gary Farns… No, no… Joseph Forcen… Aha! Carmelita fox, office number 122." Stealing a quick glance at the office map on the wall to his left, he made a mental note of the way to get to her office, and then took off up the stairs to get to the second floor. Under different circumstances, he would have found the situation humorous; he's been to her office many times before in the past to deliver bits of evidence and small trinkets of his affection, but he has always come in through the window, and never had to make his way through the building before.

As he made it halfway up, the fire eaten stairs collapsed underneath him with a loud crash. With a grunt of exertion, he leaped up and grabbed the banister of the floor above him as flames from the newly collapsed stairs began to lick at his ankles. Aided by the sting of fire, he hauled himself up onto the second floor and rounded the corner to make his way into the east side of the building. An explosion from one of the offices to his left shot shards of glass at him which he quickly deflected by bringing an arm to his eyes. Panting heavily from the heat, and short of breath due to the heavily smoky air, he pounded down the hallway, leaping over a burning snack table as he found Carmelita's office. Grabbing the side of the doorway, he slingshot himself inside, only to come crashing down as something hit his head. Hard.

"Sly?" came a familiar voice, with a hint of a Spanish accent to it. "What the HELL are you doing here?" She grabbed him by the shirt collar and heaved him bodily inside of her office, narrowly dodging a smoldering ceiling beam as it fell and sent up a shower of sparks and embers, barring the doorway.

Sly Came to his senses, shaking his head to uncloud his vision. "It's good to see you too, Carmelita," he said, holding his throbbing head in his hands. "Sorry I don't have a vase to hit _you_ over the head with," he said, grinning sheepishly and gesturing to the flower vase that Carmelita held loosely in her hands.

"Now is definitely NOT the time, Cooper," she said, dropping her impromptu weapon and taking a nervous glance through a broken wall in her office, looking down the hallway.

The fire was still raging around them, but Sly was glad to see that she was ok. He was slightly puzzled as to why she looked so nervous, and that hit over the head certainly wasn't something he had expected. What was going on? "What's going on?" he asked. "Why were you so ready to attack?"

"If we make it out of here alive, I'll tell you later, but we HAVE to get-" but she was cut off when a loud _crack _came from above them, and another charred ceiling beam fell down and struck her on the head. She collapsed onto the ground with a sigh and lay motionless, not reacting a bit when the red hot beam landed on her leg. Grabbing the beam, he threw it from her, scorching a hole in his gloves and burning his hands in the process. The fire began to lick into the room that they were in, showing sly that time was certainly of the essence if he wanted to make it out alive. Placing one arm beneath her shoulders and another beneath her knees, he lifted her easily off of the ground. He was surprised at how light she really was, but there was no time to be thinking about that now, he told himself, he needed to concentrate on getting out. Shifting around, he kicked the door to the small office, but found it blocked.

"Of course," he mumbled to himself. He took a few steps back, and then made a leap through the flames of the broken wall. Landing hard on the opposite side, he looked down the right side of the hallway he was in, but found it hopelessly shrouded in smoke and flame. Turning to his left, he took off at a sprint towards the end of the hallway. Small explosions started going off all around him, singing his fur. The roar of the fire grew even more deafening, and the cracking of the floorboards could be heard as his feet pounded away at it as he sped down the hall.

At the end of the hallway was a small window; double locked and flame licked.

"Well, only one way out!" he yelled above the blaze. His legs were working like double pistons, picking up speed as he raced to the window. Taking a small leap forwards, he planted both his feet firmly on the ground and then sprang forwards towards the closed window. An earsplitting explosion rent the air behind him, and he was propelled forwards by the blast.

He yelled out in pain as bits of glass and wood embedded themselves into his unprotected back, and then shot him through the window. It broke open with ease, shattering at the force of the explosion and Sly and Carmelita's limp bodies. They fell 2 stories, and then another as they broke the surface of the water in the canal beneath them.

The world grew quiet around them as they shot beneath the surface of the icy water. Debris fell down all around them, some larger pieces hissing loudly as the fire that engulfed them was extinguished. Sly readjusted his grip on the limp form of Carmelita, and then kicked his legs to propel himself upwards. Breaking the surface with a loud gasp, he swung his head to the side to rid his eyes of water. Rolling onto his back to keep Carmelita's head above the water, he began to kick his legs in rhythm, and he slowly made his way towards the shore.

He reached the pavement on the opposite side in short order, and then lifted Carmelita's limp form up out of the water. Gasping for breath, he hauled himself roughly up, and lay down alongside her trying to put as little pressure on his injured back as possible.

Laying there for only a few seconds, he then with much effort got to his knees and placed his arms underneath the soaked, barely recognizable form next to him. Her fur was matted and sticking up in all directions, and her left leg had a nasty burn on it. He bent his head down and placed it on her chest, and let out a sigh of relief when the sound of a heartbeat graced his ears. With much effort, he got to his feet. Fox in arms, he began to limp towards the direction of the safehouse, the sound of the raging inferno growing ever fainter in the distance.

_A/N_

_Ok, so I lied. This chapter was almost exactly the same length as the other and it said nothing about the title, but at least it was more action-tastic, right? So, what do you think is going to happen when they get back to the safe house? Will having Carm there make the rest of the team go into a frenzy? Will they accept her like one of their own? Will she storm off in a huff? Who knows! I sure don't. The next chapter will be entirely off the top of my head, because I honestly have no idea what to do with it. So wish me luck, whoever may be reading this. R&R, and I hope you enjoyed this chappy!_

_Foreshadowing quote:_

"_In times like these, it helps to recall that there have always been times like these."_

_-Paul Harvey_


	3. Into the fire

Chapter 3- …Into the fire

It was slightly after 4 in the morning when a well rested Bentley woke up. This would be much too early for most, but he was feeling well rested and full of energy, so he sat up in bed and cracked open his laptop. The opalescent glow of the screen cast odd shadows about his face and room, illuminating the otherwise dark living quarters. He pulled up his browser with a few deft clicks and typed _thiefnet _into the browser bar at the top of the screen. The fan of the small laptop kicked in, slightly startling the freshly woken turtle. The screen was then filled with large grey letters; THIEFNET was displayed proudly at the top of the site. Clicking on a drop down menu on the side, he signed in and checked to see if any of the loot from their most recent job had sold yet. One item, a small golden locket containing a picture of the daughter of a local crime boss, had sold for 400 dollars. Smiling slightly, he clicked the button that said 'collect' and transferred the funds into an overseas back account. "Four hundred and TWENTY dollars," he said to himself, smiling. Sly didn't think the locket would sell, and had bet Bentley 20 dollars that no one would be interested in it.

A loud noise from downstairs caused him to jump. With a look of concern on his face, he hastily shut the lid of his laptop and threw open a drawer next to his bed. Fumbling around inside, he grabbed his crossbow, fitted it with a dart, and then holstered it. Spinning himself around in his bed, he pushed his legs over the side, and slid down into his waiting wheelchair. Buckling himself quickly in, he slowly wheeled himself over to the door, cracked it slightly, and then peeked out. Seeing nothing, he opened it fully and then made his way to the stairs. Pressing a button on the side of the armrest, 2 metal rods extended from the sides of the wheels and they positioned themselves on the first set of steps, slowly and silently walking him down.

When he reached the bottom of the flight, he drew his crossbow and leaned out from around the door frame, looking into the spacious main kitchen of the apartment complex. Seeing nothing, he continued to slowly wheel himself to the foyer. When he got there, a loud bang came from the entryway, sending a cloud of dust from the door frame.

"W-who is it! I'm armed!" he said, shaking, but trying to steady his aim with the crossbow.

"It's Sly! Open the door!" Came the response from the other side. His voice sounded raspy, but it was unmistakably Sly Cooper. Bentley wheeled quickly over and undid the latch, throwing open the door.

Singed, limping, and soaked to the bone, the raccoon thief stumbled hurriedly in. "Quick, go clear off the table in the kitchen. I have someone who needs a bit of attention, here." He gestured to the limp body of Carmelita in his arms who, as if on cue, groaned softly.

The little green turtle gave him a look of confusion, but then noticed what Sly was gesturing at. His eyes grew wide. "Is that…"

"Yes, it's Carmelita. Now quickly, she has a pretty bad burn on her leg and a gash on the top of her head. I'll explain later, but we have to help her."

Nodding dumbly, Bentley went quickly back into the kitchen he passed through moments before and cleared the table with a few hasty swipes of his arms. Limping in shortly after, Sly carefully placed Carmelita onto the cool granite top with a long sigh of pain from having to bend over.

"What happened, Sly? What's with the burns, and the water, and the THAT!" He threw his arms out, gesturing wildly to Carmelita. "I've come to expect some crazy things from you over the years, but THIS is just not what I expected to happen at 4 in the morning."

Sly chuckled softly, and then the pain it caused him made him draw in a sharp breath. "Yeah, well, I just thought I'd spice things up a bit, you know? Thought I'd take a stroll through a burning building, and then go for a little swim with lovely Ms Fox over here. Enough chit chat, I'll explain later. Do you think you can do anything to help that burn?"

Bentley had grabbed a first aid kit from a cabinet on the far side of the kitchen, and had begun wrapping gauze around the gash on the top of Carmelita's head. "Here Sly, lift up her head so I can fasten this in the back. Obliging without hesitation, the raccoon carefully placed his hands behind her head and lifted. Bentley offered back a quick thanks as he pinned the wrap in the back with a safety pin. "The gash seems to be taken care of for now, so let's take a look at that burn." Moving down the table, he leaned over to get a closer look.

The majority of her pants, and her fur, on her left leg had been scorched away, leaving a badly burnt hide on her thigh. Bentley leaned in and touched it, causing her to groan softly.

"How did this happen?" he asked, still focusing intently on the injured area.

"A charred ceiling beam broke loose and fell on her, giving her the gash and the burn."

Bentley nodded slowly, and then turned to his partner. "I have a bottle of ammonia in the storage closet in the back; I'll be right back with it. This would be a lot easier if she was awake."

"Don't you think she will freak out when she realizes where she is?"

"No doubt about it, Sly." With that said, Bentley spun around in his chair and began wheeling himself into a room adjacent the kitchen, leaving Sly alone with the unconscious Carmelita. With a grunt of pain, he reached down and pulled one of the larger pieces of glass from his side, and then placed the shimmering red fragment on the counter behind him. Grabbing the roll of gauze that Bentley had placed on the table, he unwound a length of it and then began to wrap his midriff, saying to himself that he'd get the shards of glass and wood out later. Tying it in a neat knot, he leaned down to inspect Carmelita. His face contorted into a grimace when he got a close look at the burn.

The skin around the edge of it was beginning to flake off, while the center of it was scorched to a crisp with blood leaking through the cracks. Certainly not a pretty sight. Sly opened a nearby drawer and took out a pair of scissors, and began to cut away a bit of the fur around the edge of the injury so that it would be easier to deal with. The metal instruments snipped and clacked in short, controlled segments as Sly tried to take off only what was necessary. As soon as his task was completed, he placed the slightly blood flecked scissors in the sink nearest him as Bentley walked back in with a vial of the potent ammonia in his hands. "You ready to deal with her?" he asked as he wheeled himself to the edge of the table.

Sly gave a little smile. "I'm always ready to deal with the lovely Ms Fox, though I've got to admit, this time is going to be interesting."

Bentley nodded in agreement, and then splashed a little bit of the pungent liquid on a washcloth and brought it underneath her nose. She wrinkled her nose a bit, and then her eyes fluttered slightly as they slowly opened. She tried to lift her head, but let out a groan as she let it fall back to the table.

"What's going on," she asked, still hazy. Sly reached down and smoothed a bit of hair that the gauze wrap was causing to stick up.

"You took a pretty good knock to the noggin," he replied softly. "And you have a nasty burn on your left thigh, but we're going to take care of you, don't worry."

Carmelita opened her eyes a little bit more. "What do you mean? Who's going to take care of me?" She looked Sly directly in the face, and then her ears went back flat against her head. "Should have expected…" she grumbled. "And my leg is just fine, thank you." She tried to stand up, but collapsed back onto the table, hissing in pain. Sly, with a look of genuine concern on his face, leaned down and placed his hand on top of hers, but she withdrew it quickly.

"Doesn't look fine to me," said Sly, looking back to Bentley.

"Umm… I'm going to have to side with Sly on this one, umm, inspector."

Carmelita looked at Bentley, who was obviously nervous at her being fully awake now. "Great, the whole gang's here," she said sarcastically, throwing her arms into the air.

"Not quite," came a squeaky voice from behind her. In the doorway that lead into the kitchen stood Penelope in purple pajamas. Yawning, she made her way over to join Sly and Bentley. "I heard a lot of commotion down here, so I decided to investigate. What the heck's going on here?"

Sly looked at Bentley, and then back to her. "We'll explain later, but could you come over here and lend a hand? This wound needs to be disinfected, and it would help to have someone else to, well, help."

Bentley turned to her. "Penelope, could you please get the anesthetic from the first aid kit over there? It should be the little needle with the blue cap on it."

Carmelita looked up at him, eyes wide. "Needle? Oh no, you people aren't sticking me with anything." She hadn't ever told anyone, but she had had a deep fear of needles ever since she was 5 years old. She felt her heart rate quicken at the mention of it.

Sly could see that something wasn't right, so he took her hand in his own. "Don't worry, it's just a little something to lessen the pain around the burn, it's no big deal." He sensed that she wasn't worried so much about what was in the needle rather than the needle itself, so he tried his best to comfort her. "Here, look at me."

Reluctantly, she turned her head towards him. "What is it?" she grumbled lowly. Taking advantage of her distraction, Bentley quickly accepted the needle from Penelope, uncapped it, and inserted it at the top of Carmelita's thigh. Depressing the plunger, he quickly removed the intrusive object, and put the cap back on.

Wincing, she gave all of them a look of distaste. "Dirty trick."

"A dirty trick that did the trick," quipped Sly. "In a few minutes, you won't even be able to feel it anymore."

Carmelita snorted, "Right." Still laying down on the table with her leg burning even more from the sting of the needle, she crossed her arms, a scowl on her face. "I'm going to have all of you arrested for kidnapping," she said. "You could have just taken me to an ambulance that was on the scene, but nooo, you had to take me back to your lair."

"Lair?" said sly, a look of mock hurt on his face. "This is hardly what I would call a lair. Quite comfy if you ask me." He turned back to his mouse friend, leaving Carmelita to pout and plot in peace. "Penelope, go see if the fire has hit the news yet. It's still a bit on the early side," he said, checking his watch. "But the news day should have started about 20 minutes ago."

"On it," came her reply as she started to make her way into the waiting room turned living room.

Sly let out a long groan as soon as she was gone. "Ughh, my back is killing me. Hey Bent, could you take a look at it and pick out a few of the bits of glass?"

The turtle nodded. "Alright, Sly. Go ahead and take that bandage off so I can get a better look."

Obliging, and ignoring a string of muttered curses coming from the table next to him, he began to slowly unwrap the bandage.

**20 minutes later **

Gingerly touching his rebandaged midriff, he thanked Bentley and then made his way to Carmelita. She was still muttering darkly when he arrived. "What happened over at headquarters?" he asked. "The way you hit me over the head, it seemed like you were waiting for something to jump out and attack you." Reaching up, he softly patted the top of his head, checking the rather large bump that had sprouted up.

"I don't really know whether to believe what I saw," she muttered. Sly gave her a quizzical look.

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said, ringtail. It was like some bad movie in there." Her face was still hard, but Sly saw what he thought was a touch of fear in her eyes.

Carmelita knew what happened, but she was trying to rid her mind of the horrifying images that the memories presented. Besides, she wasn't in the best of moods thanks to Sly taking her back to his safe house.

Sly looked her in the eyes. "There is something you aren't telling me. What is it?"

Carmelita sighed, giving in. "It was a lion and a leopard, but they weren't like any that I had seen before." She closed her eyes, remembering the horrifying scene with more detail than she would have wanted. "They broke in through a second story window only a few offices away from mine. The leopard had a sword, and he used it to cut down everyone that ran into him. He was unstoppable." She gently rubbed a spot on her right hand. "He managed to nick my hand, but I was able to make it back to my office and barricade myself in. The lion, oh god, I don't even know if I should call him a lion. His face was horribly burnt and scarred, and his eyes seemed to radiate with a fire of their own. He used a device mounted on his wrists to set the fire, burning both building and people…" She trailed off, unable to continue. Sly had a look of horror on his face.

"Who could have done this?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I'll make sure they pay for what they have done. I watched my friends get cut to pieces…"

Sly furrowed his brow, not knowing what to do. Seeing Carmelita shiver slightly, he realized that she must be cold. She was soaking wet and only wearing half a pair of pants, after all.

"You look cold," he said. "I'll be right back, I'm going to go get you something to change into."

"If you could just get me a towel or something, that would be just fine," she said grumpily. "I'm not going to wear any of your clothes."

"They wouldn't be my clothes," replied Sly. "My ancestor Thadeus Winslow Cooper has quite the wardrobe, and it just so happened to be one of the things I inherited. He has a few of his wife's outfits in there, would you be ok with one of those?"

Carmelita thought hard. She was freezing cold, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how thankful she was for him offering. "Fine," she finally said. "But make it quick, I'm freezing over here."

"I'll be back before you know it," said a smiling Sly. His back was still paining him slightly, as the painkillers hadn't quite kicked in, but he moved surprisingly fast out of the kitchen and over to the stairs. Climbing them quickly, he made his way to the third floor and into the room that he called his own. Flicking on the light switch, he saw that his bed was still a mess from him getting up only an hour ago. Ignoring it, he made his way over to a walk in closet on the wall opposite his bead. Unclasping the latch on the door, he walked inside and began to fiddle with the lock of an old, ornately carved wardrobe with the initials TWC carved into the lower left of it. "Thanks, old man. Looks like I finally have a use for this," he whispered to himself. Not wanting to bother with finding the key, he picked the lock with a few quick movements and then opened the door. A small moth flitted out of the top, and then disappeared from sight. Fumbling around inside of the wardrobe, he found a small little chest that had the initials SAC embossed on the top. Undoing the lid, he found a pair of brown women's dress slacks and a grey blouse. Quickly closing up the wardrobe and exiting the closet, he passed by the bathroom and grabbed 2 towels from a rack nearest the door. Mounting the stairs again, he descended back to the first floor and into the kitchen. "Here you go," he said, placing the clothes and towel onto the table that Carmelita was now sitting up on.

"Thanks," she muttered, and then began toweling herself off.

"I'm going to give you a bit of privacy so that you can get changed into those," Said Sly. "I'll be in the living room, so call me when you are done so that we can keep talking about what happened at Interpol."

"I already told you what happened," she said. "And I would appreciate it if I could just get a bit of rest. I already know that you won't let me leave until you are absolutely certain I am ok, so I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

"How do I know you won't try and sneak off?"

"Cooper, with the way my leg is, I would barely be able to make it out the door." She hated being stuck here, but she really didn't have a choice in the matter.

Sly nodded his agreement, and then turned, walking out the door of the kitchen with a slight limp.

As soon as she saw that he was gone, Carmelita undid the button on her jeans and slipped them off. Other than having a bit of trouble working around the bandage on her leg, they came off easily. Ridding herself of her jacket and undoing the zipper on her halter top, she slipped her arms out of them. Grabbing the towel next to her on the table, she began to finish toweling herself off. The towel made a wet squelch as it landed on the ground in a heap. Carefully picking up the shirt that Sly had left her, she took a moment to admire it. She had no idea who it used to belong to, or how old it was, but no doubt about It the previous owner had a sense of style. Slipping her head and arms into it, she pulled it down and smoothed out the edges. It was made of a smooth fabric that she didn't quite recognize; it was too soft to be cotton, but not smooth enough to be silk. She wasn't a big fan of the keyhole neckline, as it showed a bit too much of her chest for her to feel comfortable, but it would have to do. Unfolding the pair of slacks next, she began to slowly work them up her legs. The bandage wasn't as much trouble this time, as the soft, aged fabric of the pants glided easily over it. Standing up for the first time since she got to the safe house, she hooked the button in the front and then smoothed down the pleats on both sides. Her fur was still slightly wet in places, making the pants stick, but it wasn't unmanageable. She walked slowly over to the ovens and inspected herself in the reflection of the shiny surface. Not too bad, she thought to herself with a smile. Her hair was a mess, but she would deal with it later. With much effort, she made her way to the door to the kitchen, and then started to make her way to the living room.

Sly walked in to see a confused looking Penelope, the shifting light of the TV illuminating the room.

"Uhh… Sly? The news says that Carmelita was the one that set the fire," she said, confused.

"What?"

"You heard me right. Here, look." She nodded towards the TV. Sly looked at it, surprised at what he saw.

On the TV, a business like ferret was sitting behind a desk giving the 'details' of what happened. In the corner of the screen was a picture of Carmelita, with a 'crimestoppers hotline' phone number underneath it. "Turn it up," said sly. Penelope took the remote and aimed it at the TV, pressing the volume button a few times.

"Former Inspector Carmelita Fox is believed to be responsible for setting the blaze that overtook Interpol Headquarters of Paris. The fire claimed the lives of 13 officers, and caused millions of dollars worth in damages to Interpol Headquarters and surrounding buildings. If you have any information that may lead to the capture of this dangerous criminal, call the hotline in the corner of your screen. If you see her, we advise that you do not approach, as she is considered mentally unstable and dangerous."

"Can you believe it?" Said Penelope.

Sly glared at the news anchor on the screen. "Nope. This makes me glad that I brought her here, though. If I had taken her to an ambulance, she would have been arrested on the spot."

"What about being arrested?" came Carmelita's voice from the side of the room. "What's going on?"

Sly looked at Penelope, and then back to Carmelita, a look on his face that Carmelita couldn't quite place.

_**AN**_

_A bit on the slow side, but an interesting development, no? Who could have blamed Carmelita for the fire? We'll all just have to wait to find out, now wont we! A few of my keener readers may notice that this story is categorized as Romance/Adventure. Where is the romance, you ask? Well, it's coming up. At least I think so, next chapter is gonna be a bit like this one was, where I just let the ideas flow as the come along. Wish me luck! This chapter is dedicated to Alan, my first ever review! Woo! _


	4. Breaking the News

Chapter 4- Breaking the news

**The cold stone** of the walls glistened softly in the pale light given off by a lone desk lamp. A chair behind the rough, aged station was hewn from the very rock it sat upon. Lined with the furs of several long dead beasts, it sat silently, and though it lacked eyes, it watched everyone that passed in and out of the room. On it sat the very picture of madness. From head to toe, he truly was a perfect specimen of a long bygone era. His sharp, black tipped ears, one of which was pierced with a small golden hoop, lay down flush with his skull, twitching slightly as they picked up every noise that filtered into the room. A long scar ran from the base of his left ear, through his hard, grey eye, and down to the corner of his mouth. Two six inch teeth, one on either side of his muzzle, shone dangerously. His chest lead to arms that had been sculpted over the course of hundreds of years, plates made out of a strange metal were bolted to his forearms, with swirling designs etched into them. His claws, razor sharp and battle proven, clacked restlessly on the surface of the stone table. A low, menacing growl issued from his lips.

"Number 2, please step forwards," he growled coldly.

A lithe cheetah, who had been standing in the shadows and trying to make himself as small as possible, stepped nervously forwards. "Yes sir?" he replied softly.

"Tell me, what was your mission," came the voice from the menacing figure, seated on his ghastly throne.

"To make sure that Sly Cooper was killed, sir."

"And did you complete your mission?" The saber tooth tiger's claws scraped icily across the stone beneath them.

"0 ordered me to send in numbers one and twelve," the cheetah answered, avoiding the gaze of his leader.

"What Arcella told you to do is of no concern to me, you did not complete your mission, and that does not sit well with me at all, oh no. It is not the fact that Mister Cooper still breathes that irks me, it is the fact that you failed me. I just wanted him out of the way so he wouldn't GET in the way. When he killed the bird, he robbed me of my revenge for his own. I WILL be rid of him in due time, but it will not make the mistake of letting an incompetent fool, such as yourself, have any part of it. You may be the fastest son of a bitch I have ever seen, but you have proven yourself unworthy of a position higher than the one that you currently posses," The tiger rose slowly, placing his hands behind his back. "You may go, but you will be punished for failing me." He narrowed his eyes, and then flicked them towards the door.

Bowing quickly, number 2 turned and made his way to the door. Opening it quickly, he exited.

"ARCELLA!" came the angry growl from the tiger, standing motionless next to his desk.

A grey wolf strode into the room, a long, black trench coat swirling behind her. "Yes master?"

"Come closer, please."

Arcella stepped closer, but reeled back in pain as razor sharp claws rent her face. The tiger dug his claws into her shoulder, and then forced her to her knees. Hitting the ground with a thud, she remained silent as his claws dug ever deeper into her shoulder causing blood to start staining the top of her coat.

"You interfered."

"Yes."

"Why." The tiger's voice was that of wet silk gliding over a cool slate.

"It was a test for Aero. You put me in control of your security force several years ago, so I decided it was time to take a few matters into my own hands. Number Law dictates that lower ranks must consider orders from a higher, but they are not required to accept. Aero knew that sending in our 2 most, how do I say, flamboyant, operatives, was a bad idea. 3 would have been a better choice, perhaps even 7. Aero knew this, but he could not bring himself to disobey me." Reaching up to her shoulder, she unlatched the icy claws from her flesh and set them aside. "I agree with what you said to him, he is not ready to be put into a higher position of power," she said, speaking confidently.

"Very well," replied her master. "Every time I begin to doubt you, you prove to me that you are worthy to be my second in command.'

"I will be loyal to you until the end, sir. And besides, you are the only one that can obtain my meds."

The tiger grinned at hearing this. Arcella was considered mentally unstable, and was only kept sane by ingesting several doses of a rather rare medication every day. Costing 2.5 million dollars a vial, it was something that would have been impossible to obtain had she not allied herself with him. "Go from me, and send 7 to go to the Cooper residence. Tell him to stay low; we don't want another failure, planned or otherwise.

She nodded a quick goodbye and, flexing her shoulder, left him standing alone in the dim room. He placed his hands back behind him and began to pace back and forth. Arcella never ceased to surprise him, and he like that about her. He would have to keep an eye on her though, he thought to himself. Much like the others in his private force, she lived up to her reputation, hers being a brilliant strategist and leader. The latter of which tended to get her into trouble with him. She was loyal, oh yes, but he would have to do something to make sure that her allegiance stayed true. Letting his mind wander around, he stepped over to his chair and seated himself, the furs making a slight rustling noise as his weight was put upon them. Slouching down, he placed his hand against his chin in deep thought. Sly was beginning to become a bigger problem than he expected. 2 missions so far have failed to get rid of him, but he wouldn't let that happen a third time. He would just have to get the key himself, he thought to himself with a slight smile. Reaching over to a drawer in the corner of his desk, he pulled out an old leather bound tome. Blowing the dust off of the cover, gilded letters shone dimly. 'Anette Cooper' was pressed into the bottom of the ancient volume. Opening it carefully up, he flipped to a torn page that held half of a map of what looked to be the arctic circle. Running his fingers down the page, he whispered to himself. "You can't hide your treasure from me forever, Anette."

Meanwhile at the safe house…

"THEY WHAT?" yelled a tired, confused Carmelita.

Sly chuckled nervously, "they, uh, blame you for the fire and have put out a warrant for your arrest. Apparently they think you are quite the psycho."

Carmelita tried to run forwards to see what was on the TV, but stumbled and fell. Sly leapt up from the couch and stuck out his arms, catching her before she hit the ground.

"Thanks," she muttered. With much effort, she stood back up, and carefully made her way over. Penelope used the DVR to rewind the news broadcast, and showed it her.

"How could they blame me?" She said angrily. "I work harder than anyone else there and have dedicated my entire life to bringing criminals down, and now they think I just snapped and did this?" She slumped down onto the couch with a frumpy expression on her face. She looked nervously at the Sly, and then to Penelope. "You guys don't believe that, do you?"

"Not at all, Ms Fox," replied the mouse. "We've had enough dealings with you in the past to know that you aren't crazy."

"As soon as we are all sure that your injuries have healed, we will let you go, as you wished. But are you sure that you would want to be thrown in jail for something that you didn't do?" asked Sly.

Carmelita thought hard on this. She had been caught between a rock and a hard place. She despised the thought of staying with a bunch of thieves, but prison didn't exactly sound any better. She could try and convince the authorities that she didn't do it, but since they claimed that she was mentally unstable, they would be hard pressed to listen to her. She threw her arms up in the air, as if giving up, and then closed her eyes.

"You ok?" asked a concerned Sly.

She opened only one eye, and then glared at him. Getting the message, Sly looked away. She was in one of her world famous moods.

Standing up, Sly clapped his hands together once, interlocking them. "Well, even though I've only been up for a couple of hours, I'm going back to bed." Walking with a limp, he made his way over to the stairs and began to ascend them. Bentley wheeled in just as Sly exited, and wished him a good rest.

"Ms Fox, I suspect that you are tired after your whole ordeal this morning, would you like to pick a room to stay in? This is an old apartment building, after all, it's not like we are short of rooms."

Opening her eyes, she realized just how tired she was. Letting Penelope help her up, she began to walk over to the stairs. "I've done a lot of crap to you guys over the years," she said. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"We aren't your average street gang, Ms Fox," yawned Penelope. "You may only see us as criminals, but we have helped take a lot of dangerous guys off the streets." She stretched and then lay back in the couch.

Carmelita frowned when she realized what she was saying was true. She had been at the Cooper gang's throats for years now, treating them all like they were the worst people in the world. But, as she thought about it, she realized that maybe criminals weren't all black and white. There were the odd gray areas, like the Cooper gang, as well. She paused as she made it to the base of the stairs. "Hey, Bentley? That is your name right?" The turtle nodded. "Is there anything to eat? I haven't had anything to eat for several hours…"

Bentley shrugged. "We have been meaning to go out and get something for quite some time now, so we're a little low on food at the moment." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "We had a bit of cereal, but we kind of pushed it off the table that we set you on…"

Sighing, Carmelita began to carefully make her way up the stairs. Bentley called out to her when she was halfway. "Try not to wake Murray up, ok? He might, well, freak out if he sees you." She nodded her understanding and then continued to make her way up the stairs to the room. Panting after the first flight, she thought to herself that they really should have put an elevator in this old place.

Finally making it to the third floor, where the majority of the good rooms were, she began to make her way down the hallway. She tiptoed past a room with a large 'M' painted on the door, and then continued on her way. Checking a door, she found it locked. "Perfect," she sighed to herself. Looking behind her, she saw a room with one of Sly's calling cards tacked to the door. Seeing that the door was open slightly, letting her curiosity get the better of her, she quietly opened it and walked inside. She drew in a quick breath when she saw what was in it.

Sly was in the process of taking his shirt off to get into bed, but turned around in surprise when he heard her. Carmelita appeared stunned. "Hi?" said sly in a confused voice.

Shaking her head, Carmelita looked at the floor, her cheeks turning a light shade of red. "Sorry, I'll be going."

"No, its fine. Is there something you need?" he said, now holding his still slightly wet shirt in his hands. Tossing it in an arc, it landed neatly in a little basket by the door.

Carmelita looked up at him. He wasn't brawny, but he certainly had some definition to him. Had he not been so lithe he may have been a little intimidating. Shaking her head once again to clear it, she cleared her throat. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Letting out a soft laugh, Sly sat down on his bed. Reaching down, he patted a spot next to him, beckoning for Carmelita to come.

Without even realizing what she was doing, she made her way over to him, being careful not to put too much pressure on her aching leg. She sat down next to him silently.

"This is the first time we have been alone in months," said Sly, almost dreamily. "The last time was out on that park bench…" he trailed off, trying to keep a cool disposition.

"Yeah," replied the vixen softly. "You lied to me, and that really hurt…"

"I told you out on that park bench that I didn't lie, I was just too happy to tell you the truth. Constable Cooper was a reality, as was how I felt, and still feel, about you."

"You know that it won't be that easy, right?" She said. Sly gave her a look of confusion. "For me to be able to trust you again, it will take some time. I actually don't even know what I am doing here right now," she snorted. "Here I am, in your room, talking like nothing ever happened. You are a criminal, Sly, and that's not exactly something that I will just get used to."

"I'm a thief, Carmelita, not a criminal."

"Do you really think there is a difference?" She asked grumpily.

"Yes, I do. Do you really think that there isn't a difference?" He replied. "I only steal what has been stolen, and never from ordinary people. The rest of the gang calls me a modern day Robin Hood." He laughed at that. "Robin hood, one of the greatest thieves of all time."

"And the news calls ME crazy," Carmelita wittily replied.

Sly once again laughed, and then placed his hand on top of Carmelita's. Much to his surprise, and delight, she didn't withdraw it this time.

Carmelita's mind was racing. She really wanted to give him another chance, remembering everything that they did when Sly worked at Interpol by her side. Then again, she thought, what chance would a thief and a cop have? It was almost like some bad movie. She came back to reality when Sly shifted his hand slightly on top of hers. "I really want to give you another chance… But how could I trust you? I know you said it wasn't a lie, but it certainly wasn't the truth, either. You deceived me for 6 months, Sly, and it will take time for me to fully trust you again."

Sly looked down at the floor, realizing the truth in what she had said. "I only did it because I was so happy with you, Carmelita. I told you that one Sunday because I didn't feel right keeping a secret from you. You may have left me that day, but a night hasn't passed since that I haven't thought of you." He reached down and adjusted the bandage that was around his midriff, rubbing it with a soft sigh. Without Carmelita noticing, he moved slightly closer to her on the bed so that their shoulders were brushing. "It may be under some very odd circumstances, but I am glad that you are here." Carmelita gave him a quizzical look. "I'm a hopeless romantic that never gets to see a happy ending, but this is the closest I've ever come to one," he said softly. He then looked her directly in the eyes. "And it is all thanks to you that I have come so far, that I have been so happy…"

His eyes had a far off look to them that Carmelita had never before seen in someone. She knew that he had lead a hard life, but was he really this soft? Or was it just another one of his lies. As if on cue, Sly spoke up.

"Never again will I lie to you, even in the slightest bit."

Carmelita looked down at the floor. "Do you remember how we used to joke about loving eachother?"

Sly remembered it perfectly. He and Carmelita used to joke all the time that they were partners not only in law enforcement, but love as well. He knew that they both were just joking at the time, but he always tucked away a little truth of it in his heart. She may have not meant anything by it, but that wasn't the case with him. "I love you," he said, still with a dreamy expression in his eyes.

Carmelita gave him a look of pure confusion.

"Three simple words with an all but simple meaning," he continued. "We used to joke about it, but I don't want it to be a joke anymore… We may have only been together for a couple hours now, but if you would, I would be very grateful if you were to give me a chance to show how I really feel about you." Sly gently placed a hand on her chin, and then turned her head so that they were looking into each other's eyes. Leaning in slowly, he placed his muzzle only a hairsbreadth away from hers.

Carmelita had no idea at all what to do. She didn't want to rush into a relationship, but they had spent a long time together before, and it seemed to be a work of fate that they had met up now. It was a bit of an overreaction to him telling the truth, she told herself, for her to just leave him like that. That was all in the past though; all that mattered was the here and now. Her heart was torn for only a second, but only just. She did not back away from the masculine figure that had placed his lips so close to hers, but she did not move forwards, either.

Without further hesitation, Sly gently pressed his lips to hers, and they met in a kiss that caused both of their hearts to race wildly. The kiss started off slowly, with them meshing their lips together in perfect harmony. Carmelita inhaled deeply, reveling in the scent of Sly being so close to her, closer than any man had been before. She placed her arms around Sly's neck and drew herself closer into the kiss, pressing her body flush with his. Sly placed one of his hands on the small of her back, drawing her in. Their bodies moving together as the kiss intensified. Sly gently parted his lips, and ran his soft tongue at the front of Carmelita's lips, vying for entry. After a few seconds, she parted hers with a sigh of contentment and allowed his velveteen tip to begin a dance with hers. The 2 warm figures danced together in sync, not too rough, but not too soft. Slowly, Sly began to lie back on the bed, drawing Carmelita down with him. Carmelita reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, surprised at the softness of it.

Carmelita's heart was pounding; never before had she engaged in a kiss of this magnitude. It was perfect. Absolutely everything about it was perfect, and she realized this more and more as she thought about it; Sly had saved her life, and now he was expressing how he truly felt about her in a way that words never could manage. She had had guys say that they loved her in the past, but their actions never expressed what they said. This, however, was incredible. She was feeling things that she had never experienced before in the past; for the first time in her life, she was in love.

Reluctantly, Sly broke the kiss; gently sucking on her lower lip as he pulled away. Carmelita was left breathless, and managed only to stare him deeply in the eyes. Sly leaned in once more, placing one last quick kiss on her lips.

"Bentley sent me up here to find a room to sleep in," she said softly, still mesmerized by the kiss that had ended only moments before. "Could you, um, unlock the room next to this one?"

"We are both really tired," he said, a small smile on his features. "You could always sleep in here for today, and we just worry about setting up your room as soon as we are rested."

This caught Carmelita off guard, causing her to adopt an odd look on her face. Sly chuckled when he saw it, causing her to blush. "Are you sure?" She asked.

"Of course," replied Sly. "This is a pretty big bed, after all, and it would be nice to have someone to share it with, even if only for one night. You wouldn't mind, would you?" Sly did realize that this was a little quick to be asking someone to share a bed with him, but he didn't care, all that mattered to him was that he was with the person that he cared more about than anyone else in the world.

Carmelita let her cheeks to go back to a normal shade, and then adopted a look of deep thought. She had never shared a bed with anyone in her life, and she didn't fully trust Sly yet, but, what the heck, she thought. It's only sleeping, right? She didn't reply to Sly with words, but nestled her head down against his chest, closing her eyes. She yawned, and then nuzzled deeper into Sly's embrace, letting his warmth and the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat lull her into the world of sleep. Sly gave a sigh of contentment before closing his eyes to join his love in a much needed rest.

_**A/N**_

_Wow was this chapter a load of fun to write. So what did you guys think? Has their relationship moved just a little bit too quickly, or was Sly's timing with the kiss perfect? Let me know, because I seriously can't figure it out :P The whole overarching plot of the story was hinted at in the beginning of this chapter, can you figure out what it is? The next chapter may take a couple of days to go up, because I have finals coming up and a HUGE art project due in just a few days, so if anyone is out there reading this, all I can ask is that you are patient. Good things come to those who wait, they always say _

_-Jake_


	5. Uninvited Guests

Chapter 5- Uninvited Guests

The first fingers of dawn began to creep over the horizon, illuminating the scene of an early morning Paris with warm golden light. The charred husk of Interpol still smoldered slightly, with only one fire truck to guard the scene. It was all serenely peaceful. Yesterday, it was a blazing inferno the likes of which Paris hadn't seen in years, but today, aside from the ashes of the building, it was like it never happened. The birds chirped obliviously, and the wind rustled the leaves of the trees on all of the street corners.

The curtains of the window in Sly's room had been pulled back, and therefore did little good when the sun began to show its head. The warm tendrils of sunlight began to wander up Carmelita's face, waking her gently. Lifting her head slightly, she slowly opened her eyes. Blinking away the sunlight, she turned her head back into the pillow. 'Pillow,' she thought. Using her arms to prop herself up, she looked around in the bed, but Sly was nowhere to be seen. A warm comforter had been pulled over her, though, which she was grateful for. The room itself was rather cold, and would have been hard to sleep in without the warmth of his body to go along with hers.

Swinging her legs slowly out of bed, she rubbed sleep from her eyes. Yawning deeply, she stretched out her arms. Reaching down, she readjusted the bandage wrapped around her thigh, and then stood up. Walking slowly towards the door, she exited the room and began to make her way down the hallway. The smell of pancakes drifted lazily through the air, tantalizing her sense of smell and drawing her closer to the source. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she placed her hand on the banister and used it to gently lower herself down to the floor. The wood paneling felt cool underneath her feet, which she took a moment to enjoy. Continuing on towards the kitchen, she opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of the freshly cooked breakfast hit the hungry vixen hard, causing her stomach to grumble loudly and alert the rest of the gang to her presence. Sly looked up at her, smiling.

"Sounds like somebody's hungry," he said, drawing out a chair from beneath the table and beckoning for her to sit. She obliged willingly, sitting down in the chair that he had prepared for her. Sly placed a steaming breakfast platter in front of her, which she took to with gusto.

A stack of three homemade pancakes, smothered in butter and syrup sat upon a cradle of bacon strips, cooked to perfection. Two smoked sausages rounded out the edge of the plate, completing the simple meal. Simple it may have been, but having not eaten for almost a full day, it was the best thing that Carmelita had ever tasted. Sly walked over to the fridge and opened the door with a small _clack, _and drew out a pitcher of orange juice. Grabbing a clean cup from the sink, he poured Carmelita a glass, which she graciously accepted. Sly was amazed at just how quickly she was devouring the contents of her plate.

"The way you are eating," he said with mock astonishment, "you would think that you hadn't eaten in years!"

Carmelita gave him a glare from overtop her glass, and then set it down after finishing off its contents. "I'm used to 3 meals a day, so going a full day without eating anything has left me a little on the hungry side."

"I noticed," said Bentley, chiming in for the first time that morning. Carmelita looked over at him.

"I thought that you said that you didn't have any food?"

"We didn't," replied a smiling Murray. "But Sly made a run to the market a couple hours ago." The burly hippo patted his stomach, as if thanking Sly for getting the food.

Carmelita scanned the room until she found the microwave. Checking the clock on the small digital display, she found it to be 3 in the afternoon. "Are you telling me that I slept for 11 hours?" she said, surprised.

"Yep," said Sly. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to run to the store with me to pick out a few things that you liked, but you were sleeping so peacefully!" he said with a goofy grin on his face. "I didn't want to disturb your beauty rest."

Carmelita snorted. "Right, beauty rest."

"You should have seen yourself," said a still smiling Sly. "You looked like a little angel." Reaching over to a nearby counter, he picked up what looked like a pair of binoculars. Flipping up a small screen on the top of them, he pressed a few buttons and then showed it to Carmelita.

Much to her surprise, and displeasure, it was a picture of her sleeping. She gave Sly a disgusted look. "You took pictures of me when I was sleeping? Creeper." She gave the picture a closer look, and saw that she really did look like an angel. She wasn't being vain, mind you, but she couldn't help but notice how peaceful she looked. She was snuggled up against the pillow with what looked like a small smile on her face, with the afternoon sun filtering through the window creating a halo around her. She was flattered that Sly thought she looked good enough to take a picture of, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "It's not nice to take pictures of someone who is sleeping, Cooper," she said, feigning disgust fairly convincingly.

Sly shrugged at hearing her say this. "I know, but I just couldn't help it." Picking up his and Carmelita's now empty plates, he walked them over to the counter and placed them next to the sink to await a wash.

Without warning, a loud crash came from upstairs, followed with what sounded like footsteps. Sly gave the rest of the gang, and Carmelita, a worried glance, and then made his way quietly over to the stairs. Leaning over the first few to look up the stair well, he quickly made his way up with nary a sound. He made it to the second story, and took a quick glance down the hallway. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he remounted the stairs and headed up to the third floor. As soon as he got up to the top, he pressed his back against the wall and made his way silently along the hallway. Sly's keen eyes picked up a slight movement of a door at the end of the hall. Sliding noiselessly along with his body still pressed to the wall, he made his way towards the room where he saw the door move. Stopping next to the partially open door, he leaned his head closer towards it, perking up his ears to try and detect anything coming from inside. Hearing nothing, he slowly placed his hand on the edge of the door and swung it open far enough for him to fit inside. As soon as he entered the room he heard another small noise, causing him to drop instinctively into a crouch. Looking around from his lowered position, he saw a shadow dart into the room kitchen.

"Stop!" He yelled at the unknown figure. Rising from his crouch, he ran forwards. Leaping over an end table, he slid into the kitchen, the tile floors causing him to momentarily lose his balance and stumble. Had he not stumbled, he would have been struck in the head by a frying pan lobbed by the intruder. His eyes growing wide from the near miss, Sly regained his balance and then shot forwards into the midriff of his attacker, knocking the breath out of him. They both slammed against the counter of the old kitchen, knocking long disused plates and bowls everywhere. Sly gained the upper hand by pinning the hooded figure against a wooden cabinet, causing it to creak loudly. The attacker, who Sly now realized to be a hare, dropped one of his legs in between Sly's and kicked outwards, knocking him to the ground. Hitting the antique tile with a thud, Sly was momentarily stunned. Taking advantage of the shift of control, the hare kicked viciously at Sly's head, causing his nose to start bleeding.

Looking around the small kitchen space, the attacker grabbed a glass bottle and smashed it over the edge of the counter, creating a jagged edge that gleamed dangerously. Leaning down to Sly's barely conscious body, he placed the edge of the glass against his throat. Placing his cloaked face next to Sly's, his voice came out harshly. "Any last words?" He hissed, elongating his 'S' sounds.

Not taking the time to respond, Sly reached up and grabbed the handle of one of the lower cabinet doors, throwing it open and catching his assailant a large crack on the head. Dropping the bottle with a growl of pain, it shattered against the floor in a loud crash. Stumbling backwards, the hare ran his back into the counter.

Quickly wiping the blood from his face, Sly bolted up and struck out at the hare with a clenched fist, which was promptly avoided. Sly's fist struck the side of a cabinet, cracking the wood and sending up a cloud of dust. Reaching out with his other hand, he grabbed the hood that the hare was wearing and tore it off, casting it to the ground.

The hare lashed out again with his long legs, catching Sly a powerful blow in the chest.

Winded, Sly summoned up his remaining energy and shot his head forwards, striking the hare on the chin and shooting him up in the air. Collapsing with a loud crash onto the floor, the hare groaned and lost consciousness; blood flowing freely from his mouth which contrasted greatly with the white tiles.

Wiping off his still bleeding nose, Sly reached into a nearby drawer and took out a dish cloth. Tearing it lengthwise, he took it and bound the hare's hands and feet together; immobilizing him should he come to his senses. Walking unsteadily towards the exit of the room, he stumbled momentarily. 'Some couple of days this has been,' he thought to himself.

After much effort, he finally made it back to the main floor and regained his companions.

"Oh my God Sly, what happened?" Exclaimed a surprised Carmelita, rushing forwards to catch Sly just as he collapsed.

"Murray," said Bentley. "Run upstairs and make sure everything has been taken care of up there."

"On it!"

Bentley continued on, "Penelope, come over here and help Ms Fox carry Sly over to the couch. I'll go and get something to stop his nose from bleeding so much."

Penelope walked quickly over to where Sly was and placed his arm over her shoulder to support him. With the aid of Carmelita, they made it to the couch quickly and carefully laid him down.

"Thanks guys," he said softly. "I found the intruder up there, and he put up quite a fight. Surprisingly enough, he wasn't armed."

Carmelita gave him an odd look. "He wasn't armed? Who breaks into a building with no means of protection?"

"Someone who doesn't need it," said Penelope, speaking up for the first time since Sly rejoined them. "He either didn't expect anyone to be in here, or he knew that he would be able to hold his own should things go south."

"He certainly held up," replied Sly, wincing as he gingerly touched the tip of his nose. "I got the best of him out of sheer luck by bashing him under the chin with my head."

"For once that hard head of yours came in handy," joked Carmelita.

Sly gave her a sarcastic grin. "Ha ha, very funny." A sound by the stairs caused him to look up just in time to see Murray coming down them with a gray bundle in his arms.

"Look what I found in one of the rooms," he said. "Sly musta' beat the snot outta this guy, 'cause he ain't moving." Walking over to where the others were seated, he none too gently flopped the limp body of the hare onto the ground, checking his improvised bonds to make sure they were still in place.

The four stared dumbly at each other, unable to think of anything to say. Bentley broke the silence when he wheeled himself back into the room with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a washcloth. "Alright, Sly," he said, "This may hurt bit, but it should help your nose." Placing the cloth on top of the bottle, he upended it to soak a small patch. Screwing the cap back onto the bottle, he came closer to his injured friend and placed the alcohol soaked rag on his snout. He felt bad when Sly cringed in pain, but he knew that he was helping. Dabbing gently around the edge of his snout, he soaked up the blood and disinfected the immediate area.

Unable to take it anymore, Sly pulled his head away and held up his hand to signal Bentley that it was time to stop. Heeding his friend's plea, Bentley folded up the blood stained cloth and placed it on the floor next to the couch. "Alright, I'm feeling better now," he said. "Let's go and see if we can't wake up our little friend over there." He gestured over to the bound form on the floor that was beginning to moan softly.

Standing up unsteadily, he made his way over to the hare and leaned over him. Patting him firmly a few times on the face, he tried to get him to come to. "Wake up, sleeping beauty," he said sarcastically. After a few more slaps on the face, the hare's eyes flew open and began to dart around the room, finally coming to a rest on Sly.

"Kill me now," he said, his voice dripping contempt.

"Why?" Replied Sly, returning the unflinching look of his adversary.

"Ambroise will be most displeased that I have failed," he replied, his voice hard. "I may have tried to kill you," he hissed, "but now I must ask you to kill me so that I do not have to face the fury of my master, and to retain my honor to the numbers."

Sly furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?" he said. "Who is Ambroise and what are the numbers?"

"That is of no concern to you, insolent bastard."

"Well he certainly has a temper to him," came the voice of Carmelita from somewhere behind him.

Sly nodded in agreement, and then pinned the hare's bound hands to the floor to keep him from struggling in his binds.

"I will not repeat myself, raccoon, kill me now," he hissed.

"Not until we get answers," Sly replied, not once losing his cool. "And even then, I'm not really the type of person to kill somebody, so you would really have to do some convincing."

As soon as he finished saying this, a loud bang came from behind them, and the struggling form underneath Sly's hands became limp. Blood began to flow freely from a large hole that had appeared on the hare's forehead.

The entire gang turned around quickly to see an elderly bat holding a pistol, the barrel of which was still smoking.

"Sorry fellas," he said with a shrug, holstering his weapon. "But he did have it coming, no?"

Sly stood bolt upright, prepared for a fight. The rest of the gang, including Carmelita, joined him by his side. Much to their surprise, the bat stepped forwards and extended his wing beckoning for Sly to shake his hand.

"Don't you worry yourselves," he said, "I'm not here to kill you like that fool was. I'm here to ask for your help."

Sly gave him an uneasy look. "Yeah, well someone we don't know busting in here and killing another person that we don't know doesn't exactly sit well with us."

"I understand that you may be a little surprised, Monsieur Cooper," said the bat, "but I will gladly answer any questions that it may take for you to trust me even in the slightest. Time is of the essence, mind you, but I have time to spare."

"Ok," said Sly, standing back up straight and relaxing his muscles a little. "Who are you? That seems like a good place as any to start."

The bat took an elegant bow, flourishing with his right wing. "Luc Artimidoreous Gaud, former Number 13 at your service, monsieur."

"Former Number 13, what do you mean?" asked Penelope.

"Exactly what I said, mademoiselle," he said with a wink. "I am, as of today, a former member of the Numbers Organization, the private security and special operations force of one Ambroise Roush. Any more questions?"

"A few, yes," replied Bentley. "Now that we know who you are, or at least who you say you are, who is that man that you just killed?" He gestured towards the still bleeding hare in the middle of the floor, who had a look of surprise frozen upon his features.

"Ah, of course. You all may still be a little surprised at my killing of him, but I give you my word that the world is one step closer to being a better place with him out of it." The bat walked over to the dead hare and lowered himself into a kneeling position. Reaching out, he placed his hand on its muzzle and drew back its lips, revealing a golden tooth where one of the canine teeth should have been. Inscribed onto it was the number 7. After he was sure that the entire gang had gotten a good look at it, he lowered the lips back into place. "Number 7," he continued. "Lucas Marlan, recon specialist, and although I never got to witness it in person I hear that he is an accomplished hand to hand fighter as well."

"You can say that again," said Sly, stepping forwards. "You said that you are a member of the Numbers,"

"Former member," quipped the dark colored bat.

"Right, former member," Sly continued. "And the hare, Lucas, was also a member."

"Correct."

"Ok then, what exactly are the Numbers?"

"I do believe I answered that in a previous statement, but no matter. The Numbers are the private security force and special operations team of Ambroise Roush. A very dangerous, highly trained group of individuals that were all sought out for our skills and talents, mine being psychological warfare and fear tactics." He gave the gang a few glances, noting there expressions. "I may be old, gentlemen, but I could easily best any one of you in a fight." He smiled before continuing; revealing his sharp, white teeth. "You would be too scared to move for the next week…"

"Next question," said Sly, trying to avoid thinking of what the old bat had meant by that last phrase. "Who is this Ambroise, and why should it concern us?"

Luc neatly folded his wings behind him and began to pace. "Ambroise is the most powerful person on the planet. I mean that not in terms of who he controls, but literally."

"Literally?" asked Murray.

"Yes. He is ten times as old as I, ten times as wise, and one hundred times as powerful. He could rip every single one of us to pieces in the blink of an eye."

Bentley adopted an expression of confusion. "How old are you, Mr Gaud?"

"One hundred and seven," He said with a smile and a tilt of the head. "Yet still as active as any one of you young ones."

"Wait wait wait," said Sly, "You said that this Ambroise guy is ten times as old as you?"

"You did not hear me wrong, Cooper."

"But that would make him over a thousand years old," came Penelope's squeaky voice.

Luc gave her a nod. "Yes young lady, that would make him over a thousand years old. Older than that, truthfully, but I only count someone alive if they know what is going on around them." He once again noted the expressions on all of the faces around him. "He is a saber tooth tiger," he added, almost nonchalantly.

"But those went extinct over eleven thousand years ago!" said Bentley in surprise. "How could one have survived for that long?"

"I believe an owl that you have had some encounters with in the past could answer that question."

"Clockwerk?" Said Sly, stepping over the body of Lucas and towards the bat. "Are you telling me that he used the same technique as Clockwerk to live this long?"

"Yes and no," replied Luc. "You see, Clockwerk was the one that made him how he is…"

_**A/N**_

_Ok wow, this chapter jumps all over the place; it starts out fairly peaceful, then a massive fist fight breaks out, then the next thing you know a guy is laying dead in the floor and you are being slowly dragged into a giant conspiracy. I rewrote this chapter several times, and this is the one that sounded best to me. I hope you enjoyed reading!11!_

_-Jake _


	6. Family Crisis

Chapter 6- Family Crisis

"… For you see, Ambroise was an apprentice of the owl's."

"He was a… what?" said the entire gang in unison.

"An apprentice. Ambroise has quite a back story to him, and rest assured I will explain it to the lot of you to the best of my ability," Luc glanced down at a small watch that he wore on his right thumb. "But time is of the essence, as I said. I understand you have a van that is capable of fitting 8, correct?"

Everybody in the room turned and looked at Murray, who responded promptly. "Yeah, she can hold 8, but it may be a bit cramped."

"Cramped or not, it should work perfectly," replied the bat.

"Why should it be important that the van holds 8? We only have 6 of us here," said Sly.

Luc didn't miss a beat in his reply. "Wonderful observation, Cooper. That leads me perfectly into the next bit of news that I have. I know that you may not trust me yet, seeing as how we have only known one another for approximately ten minutes, but you will have to take my word that I am not lying." Luc produced a small scrap of old looking paper, and presented it to the group in front of him. "This," he said, "is the map to a vault."

"Like a bank vault?" Asked Penelope.

"Not exactly. Now this is where you may be surprised, Sly." He pointed to the bottom of the paper, showing them the initials 'AC' written lightly in the corner. "These are the initials of Anette Cooper."

"Anette Cooper?" repeated Sly, furrowing his brow.

"Yes, a relative of yours that has been lost to the annals of time."

"So you are telling me that there is someone in my ancestry that didn't record their adventures in the Theivious Raccoonus?"

"That I am, and that is also what makes it interesting." He placed the map back into a small envelope, and placed it in a pouch that he wore along his waist. "This map was one of the pages of her own book, Sly. She was the second born, and therefore not recognized as a member of the thieving part of the Cooper Clan. As she was growing up, she realized that this wasn't as things should be, so she took her destiny into her own hands and began to thieve on her own. She followed the same sense of honor that the main body of the Cooper's had for the last thousand or so years, but did so on her own." He glanced back down at his watch. "Now, I'd love to tell you more, but we really must get a move on if we are going to enlist the aid of a rather important person. Monsieur Murray, would you be so kind as to lead us to the van? We need to get to the airport."

"We can't just get onboard a plane like nothing is happening, Luc," Said Sly. "We are fairly recognizable."

"But of course," Luc replied. "I have your falsified passports and your disguises in a briefcase near the entrance to this establishment."

"Where exactly are we off to?" asked an apprehensive Sly, still not completely sold on the authenticity of the bat.

"Liverpool, England."

Sly exchanged glances with his friends, and then looked back at the bat. "Look, we really have no reason to trust you-"

"Aye, but you don't have a reason not to trust me, either," Luc replied with a wink.

Sly sighed, giving in slightly. "Ok, we'll go, but you will be under close watch the entire drive out to the airport, and if anything happens on that plane, none of us will hesitate to defend ourselves," he said, making his intentions clear.

Clapping his hands together once, Luc began to make his way towards the exit of the old apartment building, beckoning for the rest to follow.

Murray led them all to a small garage that was attached to the main building. Pressing a button on a panel on the side of the addition, a series of mechanical creaks and groans issued from the large metal door as it slid up, revealing Murray's pride and joy; the team van.

Walking into the rather spacious interior of the garage, Murray grabbed the keys of off a hook on the far wall and unlocked the driver's side door. Struggling slightly to get his large body into the cabin, he seated himself with a long sigh and a smile. Patting the dashboard, he put the key into the ignition. Reaching down, he pulled a small latch that was underneath the steering wheel which released the lock to the 2 rear doors, opening them so that the rest of the gang could climb inside. Sly pulled himself into the back and offered a hand to Carmelita, but she brushed it away with a smile and hoisted herself up. Feigning hurt, Sly made his way forwards and seated himself, followed by Carmelita, then Penelope, and then lastly Luc. Bentley, who had seated himself opposite Murray, folded down his modified wheel chair and stowed it underneath the seat. Turning himself around to face the back of the van, he rested his arm on the headrest. "You guys all set back there?" he asked.

"Ready to go," said Sly, buckling himself in.

"Monsieur Murray, I have heard quite a few stories about the power of this van, and I was wondering if any of them were true," asked Luc, who had chosen a seat nearest the back of the van.

"You better believe it, mister! Prepare to be amazed!" replied a smiling Murray.

Pressing in the clutch, Murray turned the key. Over the last couple of months, Murray had done some heavy modifications to his beloved van; swapping out the engine, putting in racing parts wherever he could, and strengthening the overall structure of the van while still cutting down weight.

Murray grabbed the shifter and threw it into first. Stomping on the gas, he released the clutch and flew out of the garage, the spinning wheels of the van leaving a trail of white smoke in their wake. The twelve cylinder engine roared as they flew onto a dirt road that lead them back to the main road. Taking the first corner with a slide, the tires of the van shot gravel in all directions as Murray effortlessly guided the speeding van out of its drift. Stomping the clutch, Murray grabbed the shifter and threw it down into second gear in the blink of an eye, causing the van to pick up speed at an alarming pace.

Jostling around in the back thanks in part to the bumpy dirt road, Luc expressed his satisfaction. "Those stories I've heard are most certainly true!"

Sly was smiling largely, trying to keep himself from bumping out of his seat. "Ok Murray, you can slow down now. We are almost at the main road, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that this van certainly lives up to its reputation!"

Lessening the pressure on the accelerator, Murray lowered the van's speed to a comfortable 50 miles per hour and guided it onto the main road from the relatively short and windy dirt one that they were on, for Murray had taken the liberty of taking the long way that circled around the safehouse to show off his van. Cruising along with traffic, Luc began to continue where he had left off back at the apartments.

"Now I know you probably believe that the biggest news you will hear today was that of Annete's vault, but that is not the case."

Sly, who was sitting opposite of the bat, gave him a curious look. "What would you mean by that?" He said, readjusting himself in his seat.

"Well, Annete had a son, but she was not around to teach him her thieving ways and pass on a newly started tradition that she had started. Even though she 'defected', she was still guilt ridden for betraying her family, so she left her son on a doorstep of one of the shopkeeps when he was only a month old. Through careful tracking of the bloodline, Ambroise was able to determine that Anette's family line continues on for some time."

Penelope turned her head to look at him. "What do you mean by 'continues on for some time'?"

"To put it bluntly, Sly has a living relative."

The entire team, including Murray, turned to look at Luc. Laughing, the bat gave them all a wry smile. "I told you that there was bigger news."

Sly placed his hand on his chin, a look of deep thought on his face. He began to bounce his leg up and down. "Are you telling me that we are getting on this plane to go and meet one of my relatives?"

"Yes I am, Sly."

Sly sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. "Well, some couple of days this has been," he said softly.

Luc glanced down at his watch again, noticeably relaxed this time. "We seem to be right on schedule, gentlemen. I have seats booked on a plane that will take us directly to Liverpool, I also thought ahead and made sure they had enough cargo space to take the van along with us."

"Radical!" Came Murrays Voice from the front of the van.

"Radical indeed," replied Luc.

Carmelita, who was seated next to Sly, patted him gently on the shoulder. "Are you ok?" she asked softly. A glimmer of light from the corner of Sly's eye caught hers, and she noticed that he was crying.

"Yeah," he replied softly, the background noise of the road muffling his voice slightly. "It's just that I have lived my entire life thinking that I was the only one of my family left, so this is a lot for me to take in."

"I understand," she said, patting him on the shoulder once more.

As they approached the airport, Luc began to act nervous; twitching his large ears back and forth and drumming his fingers on his leg. "Something doesn't feel right," he said to no one in particular.

Bentley turned in his chair. "What do you mean?"

"Well, this is certainly one way to ruin a day," he said. He unbuckled himself from his seat and stood up, checking to make sure that his pistol was attached firmly in its holster. Turning to face the back doors of the van, he pulled a latch that threw them open; filling the interior of the van with the sound of rushing wind. Standing at the exit, Luc tucked the ends of his wings in firmly to make sure that they didn't catch wind, and then reached up to grab the top of the now open door. Swinging himself out, he dangled momentarily from the swinging door above the ground that was speeding by, and then hoisted himself up on top of the van.

Sly and the rest of the gang were left speechless, giving each other surprised looks.

Without warning, Luc landed back on the platform inside the van. "Damn it I hate it when I'm right."

Immediately following his statement, a huge explosion came from the airport in front of them, filling the air with fire and smoke. A large shockwave struck the van, causing it to shake violently.

"What is going on!" yelled Sly.

"It seems that we are just a bit too late," came Luc's oddly calm reply. "It appears that Ambroise took it upon himself to send another Number out here. You must be of very high priority, Sly. He has never sent this many."

"Yeah well lucky me!"

Murray skidded the van past a pair of cement columns and into a parking lot that was enclosed by a chain link fence. Throwing it into park, he turned off the engine. A loud rush of wind came from above them, followed by another explosion.

Luc, still in a creepily calm way, expressed his thoughts to the gang as they hurriedly disembarked the van. "Appears to be the work of Five, if I'm not mistaken."

"Wonderful, more people that we don't know," said Sly in a sarcastic way. He ran towards the front of the van and undid the latch on the passenger side door. Lifting out Bentley's wheelchair, he opened it up and then allowed Bentley to slide into it. Buckling himself in, the turtle gave him a nod of thanks and then started to wheel himself to the back of the bus.

As soon as everyone was off, Luc whistled loudly over the sound of explosions, catching the attention of the gang. "Ok everybody, change of plans." He pulled his pistol out of its holster and then slightly pulled back the slide to check to chamber. "Cooper, go with Detective Fox and scout out ahead. Murray, Bentley, Penelope, you 3 are with me as we try and find an alternate means of getting to England."

Sly and Carmelita both looked at each other, and then took off at a sprint towards the burning airport.

Sly was panting by the time he and Carmelita reached the large glass entrance to the airport, which had been cracked in several places thanks to the explosions that were still going off at random intervals all around them. "This is shaping up to be a crazy week," he said, out of breath.

"No kidding, but let's cut the theatrics and make sure that nothing will interfere with whatever plans Luc has, ok?"

Sly opened the glass double doors, and then walked carefully inside, trying to remain calm. He twisted his cane around in his hands, staying ready for anything. The entire airport, save for the sound of fire and explosions was oddly quiet; no screaming, no people running around, nothing. He ran quickly to the welcome desk and crouched down, placing his back to it. Carmelita joined him shortly thereafter.

"It all seems odd, doesn't it," she said to him. "This place seems deserted; no bodies or anything."

Another explosion rocked the building, causing them both to jump.

"If there is no one around, then we don't have to worry about being sneaky. Follow me, we'll do a quick sweep of the place and then go out to the tarmac to meet up with the others," he said, rising into a standing position. He walked quickly over to the food court and took a glance inside, motioning for Carmelita to join him. She ran quickly over to join him.

"Wait here," he said as another explosion went off outside, likely destroying a plane. He grabbed a decorative column in the entrance of the food court and began to climb up it, clasping his cane in between his teeth. Reaching the top, he effortlessly pulled himself up onto an awning and walked along it, looking back and forth to get a check on his surroundings. Seeing nothing of interest, he started off at a run and took a leap off of the awning. Whipping out his cane, he caught a light fixture that hung overhead and used it to swing across to another awning. Spinning in mid air, he landed softly upon the tip of a pole that jutted out of the top of it. Looking over once the area once again, he did a summersault off of the awning and landed neatly on the ground. Walking quickly over to Carmelita, he dusted a bit of dust off of his shirt. "The place is absolutely deserted," he said. "Let's go out to the tarmac before this whole building comes down around us."

The two took off towards an exit on the far side of the room and reached it without trouble. Jumping in front of Carmelita, Sly opened the door for her and beckoned with his hand. Carmelita rolled her eyes, and they stepped out into the warm air.

The tarmac itself was in ruins; every single jet liner had been blown to pieces, and their charred remains littered the runway. The air was thick with smoke, but they were able to see Luc and the others next to a small plane that had survived the attack. Running over to it, they rejoined the other group.

"Take that man out of the cockpit and place him on the ground," Luc directed at Murray, who had a horrified look on his face.

Sly ran up to meet them. "What's going on here?" he asked, but then he saw what Luc was talking about. Inside the cockpit of the medium sized Cessna was a portly male ferret with a piece of shrapnel embedded in his chest; staining his pilot's coat red with blood.

"Move out of the way, then," Luc said, pushing Murray aside and grabbing the body in his arms as if it was just a random object. Kneeling down, he placed the body on the ground next to the plane. "Everything is fine, Cooper, we just weren't expecting this poor fellow to be inside."

Sly looked at the body, and then shuddered. Shaking his head, he gave the plane a once over from where he stood. "Are you sure this thing will be able to hold us all?" he asked. Luc didn't reply. "Luc, will this hold all of us?"

"It will take a bit of finesse to get her off of the runway, but she should manage just fine once she is airborne," he finally said. He walked over to the side hatch of the plane and threw it open.

Carmelita, perking up her ears, noticed that the explosions had stopped going off around the airport. "Why is it so quiet all of the sudden?" She asked.

Luc continued on with his task, but answered her. "Five was sent here not to kill us, but to make sure that we didn't get off the ground. He seems to have already left." Jumping inside the plane, he turned around to face the others. "Ok ladies and gentlemen, next stop is Liverpool, England."

_**A/N**_

_And so the plot thickens, right? Sly has a living relative in England, but it appears that Ambroise doesn't want him to reach them. The next chapter could take a while to come out, so I hope this one is good enough to tide whoever is reading this over until I can get around to posting the next part. Oh, and Claire Cooper, thanks for making my week for me : )_

_-Jake_


	7. Flying the Friendly Skies

Chapter 7- Flying the Friendly Skies

"We are lucky that Five missed this plane, that's not like him to be so sloppy," said Luc as he helped everyone into the small plane.

"One of the first bits of good luck that we have run into," replied Sly, climbing into the pilot's seat. Since he was the only one of them with any flying experience aside from Penelope, he agreed to pilot the plane. As soon as he was sure that everyone was in, he checked the gauges on the instrument panel to make sure that nothing was damaged in the chaos, and then started it up; the engine sputtering to life and sending out clouds of black smoke. Coaxing it gently passed a large pile of smoldering debris; he guided it onto the runway. "You guys do know that I have no experience flying a plane like this, right?"

"You showed some real talent in a plane, though, back at the ACES competition in Holland," Penelope said. "I can vouch for your skills, Cessna or not."

Smiling, Sly adjusted the tail rudders and then pushed the accelerator forwards. The plane started with a jolt, and then smoothly picked up speed. Making a slight maneuver to the left, he avoided making contact with the charred husk of a private jet that had been unlucky enough to be on the tarmac at the time of the attack. Setting the small twin engine plane back on course, he brought the speed up to 80 knots to compensate for the extra weight, and then gradually pulled back on the yoke. The plane tilted back slightly, and then the wheels lost contact with the ground. Pulling in a lever that was above his head, sly retracted the landing gear and locked it in place.

Picking up a small headset that was attached to the side of his seat, Sly put it on and adjusted the mic boom that came from the side so that it was closer to his mouth. He motioned for the team to start looking for more headsets. In all, 3 more were found.

Luc's voice crackled to life over the headset that Sly was wearing. "Put us on a course that sends us due northwest, as soon as we enter English airspace I will guide you to Liverpool."

"Roger that."

Twenty or so uneventful minutes passed, but then Luc began to act strange again.

"I'm beginning to get another one of those feelings," he said into his headset.

Penelope, who also had on a headset, looked at him. "Do you mean like the one you felt in the van before the airport exploded? Just please don't go jumping out of this plane, I'm sure it wouldn't be as easy as the van."

Luc stood up and then walked towards the front of the plane, tapping Sly on the shoulder. "Get ready to bank a hard left as soon as I say. No questions, just do it."

Sly gave him an odd look, still not fully trusting him.

"On my mark," said Luc, closing his eyes. He sat there for several seconds, and then opened his mouth only to close it quickly a second later. His eyes shot open. "NOW!"

Sly threw the yoke to the left just as Luc instructed, causing the plane to shift wildly and veer off course. A loud whistling noise came from behind the plane as a missile shot past them, narrowly missing the right wing. Trailing smoke and flames behind it, it vanished quickly from sight, only to reappear a few seconds later as it banked around to try and hit the plane again.

"Holy crap!" said Sly, fighting to regain control of the small plane. "That was just a little too close for comfort!"

Tearing the headset off, the bat yelled over the sound of the engines. "It's coming back around! Dive!"

Sly put all of his weight on the flight yoke with a grunt and sent the plane into a sharp nose dive, causing the gang in the back to have to hold on to their seats.

"This time, I believe I can safely say that they are trying to kill us!" Yelled Luc.

"No kidding!" yelled Sly in response as the missile shot past them going straight down, vanishing for good.. He pulled back on the yoke, trying to keep from blacking out as the g-forces increased heavily, pressing him down in his seat. Luc, however, managed to remain standing somehow. The plane leveled out of its dive, and Sly began to pant heavily; his heart racing.

"I know you fellows don't trust me yet, but it should be fairly clear that I am in just as much danger as you, which, as you can see, shows that I am not on _their_ side. Sly, make sure to circle around after this next bit." He walked quickly towards the back of the plane towards the entrance hatch on the side.

"I'm afraid that I will have to disobey your orders, Ms Penelope," he said, throwing the side of the plane open. The noise of the wind rushing by became deafening, causing Luc to press his ears flush to his head. He spread his wings, flexing them in the confines of the plane. Then, without a moment of hesitation, he took a leap into space, catching the wind in his wings and starting a glide. The wind rushed past his face harshly, so he partially closed his eyes to keep them safe. Flexing his tail to the right, he pushed one of his wings down so as to bank. Swiveling his head, he saw a jet coming towards him fast. Flapping his wings once with much effort, he accelerated quickly away from it, but tried to stay on the same level as it. It shot passed him once, narrowly missing his extended wing; the afterburners singing what little fur he had. The jet began a long turn and began to make its way back towards him, but Luc was ready this time. Flapping with all of his might, he tried to match his speed with the now slowing jet. Tucking his wings in, he descended quickly. Opening them again, he latched onto the wing of the speeding fighter with a bone shattering thud. His grunt of exertion was lost to the wind as he tried to increase his grip. The pilot of the aircraft noticed him hanging onto the wing, and performed a quick barrel roll to try and shake him off. His thumbs made noticeable dents in the wings as he hung on for dear life. Having survived the first spin, Luc began to move himself towards the cockpit, trying desperately to keep the rushing wind from pushing him off. Hand over hand, he finally reached it. Releasing his grip with one wing, he drew his pistol and aimed it at the bolt that held the canopy in place. Pulling back the trigger, the gun bucked in his hand and fired a small slug at the base of the canopy; causing it to fly off and shatter against the rear fins in a shower of glass and metal that was quickly lost to sight.

He punched the pilot once, stunning him, and then reached into the cockpit. Feeling hastily around at the side of the pilot's seat, he grabbed a small yellow handle and tugged, engaging the ejection mechanism. Swinging clear of the cockpit, he turned his head away as the seat shot out of the interior of the jet and flew up and back with the aid of thrusters on the bottom. Letting go, he jumped backwards and spread his wings, catching the air once more. Adjusting himself in the air, he banked right and began to fly towards the Cessna that had begun circling around towards him.

Sly pushed the accelerator forwards, slowing the plane as much as he could. "This is going to be a little tricky, guys, so hang on!" He then completely turned off the engines, and made the plane climb quickly.

Luc tucked in his wings and dove towards the open door of the now vertical plane that had stalled in the air. Bracing his head against his shoulder, he twisted to the side right as he shot through the open doors on the side. He struck the far interior wall with a loud thud, crumpling into a heap against the wall as Sly leveled the plane back out and restarted the engines. Carmelita jumped up and quickly closed the doors, making a metallic creaking noise as they shut and leaving the interior eerily quiet. She walked quickly over to the heap of grey and black that was against the wall, and propped him up. She patted him softly on the cheek, trying to get him to come to. After several quiet moments, Carmelita laid him back down.

"I'm getting too old for this crap," came Luc's muffled voice. He sat unsteadily up, flexing his right arm and gingerly touching his lower ribs.

Carmelita went quickly back to him, helping to support his weight. "You were too old for this 40 years ago," she said quietly.

"What's done is done, though. Ten won't be bothering us anymore on this trip." He placed a hand on his knee and then rose to his feet, making his way back to his seat. "Feels like I have a couple of broken ribs, but I've had worse." Buckling himself into his seat, he looked around the cabin before closing his eyes. "From what I saw outside, we are just now entering English airspace. Sly, give me a second to catch my breath and I will be right up there to help direct you to Liverpool."

Sly looked at him and nodded before turning his head back to face the front of the aircraft again.

_**1 and a half hours later **_

Sly slowly took the plane in for a landing at the airport; the wheels making a slight shrieking noise as they came into contact with the tarmac. Guiding it slowly off of the main runway, he brought it to a stop in one of the designated positions off to the side of the main docking ports. Finally finding a use for the disguises that Luc had brought along, Sly and the rest of the gang slipped into the outfits and then disembarked the small twin engine aircraft, making their way towards the main building of the Liverpool Airport.

_**A/N**_

_Ok ok ok I know it's short, but I anything else I could add would just be a bunch of filler, and ending it like this leaves it open to start the next chapter! Stay with me, fellas, the next chapter gives Sly and Carmelita a bit of alone time, plus we get another character introduction! The next chapter won't be actiony, mind you, but I will try my best to make it interesting : )_

_-Jake _


	8. Family Ties

Chapter 8- Family Ties

The group of 6 walked nonchalantly through a small entrance that led into the main building of the crowded airport. Luc was limping slightly, but was playing off his injuries rather well. Sly had placed his cane into the briefcase that they had gotten their disguises out of so as to not attract any unwanted attention. Making their way quickly through the main foyer, not bothering to check their plane in, they sat down on one of the benches near a set of restrooms.

"My side is killing me," said Luc, stretching out. He slightly lifted up his shirt to reveal a large purple spot on his dark colored side. Sighing, he let his shirt fall back down in a mess.

Sly sat down next to him, gesturing for the rest of the gang to gather around. "I believe I speak for all of us," he said, "when I say that you have earned our trust. You saved all of us back there, and risked your life in the process-"

"I just know how bad things would be if Ambroise got his hands on the key," Luc interrupted. "I will never wrong you or your gang, you have my word. I was just doing the right thing."

"Right thing or not," said Murray, "That was freakin' awesome!"

"I'm getting to be way too old to do this crap," mumbled Luc, stretching once more.

Sly got up and helped Luc to his feet. Making sure he was able to support himself, he addressed the gang above the bustle of the foyer, Luc and all. "We made it to Liverpool, but now we have to get to this relative of mine, which I still can't believe I have… Forget about all that, though. Luc, do you know where this person is?"

The old bat steadied himself and then cleared his throat. "They are at the West Park Apartments, ironically enough on the east side of town. I had arranged for a limo to pick us up, but they aren't going to be here for another hour."

Carmelita stood up and walked over to Sly, who gave her a little smile which she tried to ignore. "We could probably get a couple of cabs to take us there," she said, looking around at all of the gang. "We would have to split up, but we should all be able to make it there around the same time."

"Wonderful idea, Mademoiselle Fox," stated Luc. He took a few unsteady steps towards the exit of the busy airport and then turned back around to face the others. "Well, what are you all waiting for? I'm not getting any younger here."

Sly laughed, shaking his head. "You've got us there. Alright, let's go."

They all walked towards the exit of the airport, trying to attract as little attention as possible. Sly, briefcase in hand, opened the door with a slight tug and allowed the others to exit. Letting go of the brass door handle, he slipped through right before the door shut.

Carmelita quickly made her way to the round drop off zone, and heralded a group of taxis. Walking up to each one of the 3, she told the drivers where they were headed. Making a motion with her head towards the cabs, the others split into groups of 2 and got into the dark colored vans. Murray got with Luc, Penelope got with Bentley, and Sly sat with Carmelita.

Murray and Luc's cab, which was at the front, started off towards the east side of town, followed closely by the others.

_**Fifteen Minutes Later **_

The entrance to the apartment complex was blocked by a large metal gate, which opened automatically as the cabs approached. As they passed a large stone sign with 'WEST PARK' carved into it in ornate lettering, Sly spoke up to Carmelita.

"I can't believe this is actually happening," he said softly.

Carmelita turned her head to look at him, her hair making a soft scraping noise on the leather seats of the car. "You have never had a real family, have you?"

"Not since I was 8," he replied. He reached down and readjusted his seatbelt, which was beginning to cut into him uncomfortably. "My mom died when I was 3, so I never got to know her, but I was best friends with my dad…" he trailed off, closing his eyes. This was affecting him more than he thought it would, he thought to himself. He had lived the majority of his life with no real family to speak of. Sure, he had Murray and Bentley, and they were more like family than friends, but they would never be like having the real thing. Carmelita put her hand on his shoulder, breaking him from his trance.

"I guess I can't say what you are feeling right now, but I understand that it must be a lot for you to take in."

Sly looked over at her, and then out the window. "We're here," he said abruptly, trying to hold in what he was really feeling.

The cabs pulled up to the 'E' building of the large complex and let the gang out. Luc pulled out a small grey card and allowed each of the cab drivers to swipe it through a machine inside the cars, paying for the trip. The gang walked over to a tree that was growing out next to the side walk to regroup.

"Well Sly, I do believe that you should be the one to lead us," said Luc, looking down at his watch. "She is in room number 122, on the second floor; a rather large apartment if my memory serves me."

Sly took a deep breath. "Ok guys, follow me." He gave them all a look over, and then started to walk along the sidewalk towards the stairwell of the 'E' building. His feet made metallic thuds against the metal steps as he made his way up, followed by the gang. Placing his hand against the banister, he pulled himself up onto the second floor. Stopping to allow the rest of the gang to catch up with him, he turned his head and looked to the room at the left. '122' was printed upon the faded bronze number plate that adorned the door.

"This is probably a bigger deal for me than for any of you guys, but are you ready?"

"Time is of the essence, Sly, so whenever you are ready," came Luc's reply. He didn't sound like he was in any sort of a rush, but his voice had a slight sense of urgency to it.

The entire gang was looking at him, ready to follow him through. Turning his attention back to the door, he sighed and then brought his hand up to the doorbell. Stopping his finger a fraction from the button, he flexed his hand and then pushed it forwards. A faint ringing could be heard coming from inside, followed by footsteps. "I'll be right there!" came a feminine voice from somewhere inside. A few seconds later, the metallic click of a deadbolt being undone could be heard, followed by a creak as the old door swung partway open. A female raccoon, about the same age as Sly, peaked around the door. "Hello," she said nervously, eyeing the group in front of her. "Who are you people?"

Sly looked around at his gang, and then back to the raccoon in front of him. "We need your help," he said calmly.

The girl gave him a nervous look. "What for?"

Sly put his hand behind his head and rubbed it nervously. "Well, you are going to be surprised when I say this, but… we are family."

"What? I'm sorry, you must have the wrong person," she said hastily, closing her door.

Luc stepped in front of Sly and knocked on the door firmly. "Claire, please open the door. This is important."

Several seconds of silence passed, and then the door opened up slowly. "How do you know my name?"

"That is not important, we-"

Sly cut him off before he could continue. "You and I are family, Claire…"

"That's not possible, I am an only child and my parents died when I was 4."

"You see," Sly continued. "That's where it gets complicated."

Claire gave them all an odd look, and then opened her door wider. "I guess I should invite you in," she said, gesturing for them to come inside. "It's a little messy, but it should be ok."

"Thanks," said Sly, stepping inside followed by the rest of the gang.

It was a small apartment, true, but it did have its charms. In the living room, where the door led to, there was a small wooden stand against the wall that had an old boxy TV on top of it. Next to the stand was a small book case, every inch of which was filled with books of all shapes and sizes. Walking over to a white couch in the corner, Sly sat down. Claire, who shut the door behind them, walked to the center of the living room, hands akimbo.

"So what's all this about it being complicated?" she asked quickly, her foot beginning to tap.

"First off," Sly replied. "Do you know who I am?" He pointed to his chest.

Claire gave him a long look, and then shrugged. "Nope, you don't look familiar. Now," she continued, "Since we have that out of the way, would you be kind enough to leave?"

"Not just yet," said Sly, the rest of the gang remaining silent. "I am Sly. Sly Cooper. And this," he said, gesturing to each of his gang in turn, "Is Penelope, Bentley, Murray, Carmelita, and Luc."

Penelope gave a nervous wave, and Murray offered one of his trademark grins while the rest stayed motionless and silent.

Claire's eyes grew wide. "You are the Cooper gang?"

"Yes ma'am, the one and only."

Claire took a step back and placed a hand against her face. "How exactly…"

"How are we related?" Said Sly before she could finish.

"…I was going to ask how you found me, but that actually seems like a better place to start now that I think about it…" she replied softly after a second of hesitation.

Sly chuckled gently. "Both are good questions, I guess." He let out a long sigh and then opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it back slightly. "I'm not even fully sure how," he said, turning to face Luc. "I believe this is where you get to show what you know, Mr. Gaud."

Luc stepped forwards, bowing slightly. He cleared his throat before addressing the confused looking pair of raccoons in front of him. "Well, back in the medieval times, a female raccoon named Anette was born as the sister to one of Sly's more well known ancestors; Sir Galleth."

Sly crinkled his brow, and then interrupted Luc. "Wait, Anette was Galleth's sister? I remember him mentioning someone else in his section of the book, but he never made clear who it was."

"Yes, Sly, Anette was Galleth's younger sister by about a year. Now, where was I… oh yes. Anette, several years down, the line realized that it wasn't fair for Galleth to get trained and accepted into the thieving section of the cooper clan and her not, so she abandoned her family and struck out on her own to thieve as she pleased. Still bound by a sense of honor, she followed the same guidelines as the more, official I guess I should say, part of the clan. Four years later, she became with child and gave birth to a boy. Guilt ridden by leaving her family, she couldn't bring herself to start one of her own, so she left the boy on the doorstep of one of the shop owners of the time." He glanced around the room, making sure everyone was still listening, lest he have to repeat himself. He placed his hands behind his back, tucking his wings neatly at his sides. "The bloodlines remain clear, but names have been lost to the annals of time. Long story short, everybody, Sly is a descendant of Galleth and lovely Miss Claire here is a descendant of Anette, both of whom had the same parents."

Sly turned back to look at an even more confused looking Claire. He offered her a soft smile, but she didn't seem to notice. "Sooo… yeah," he said slowly. "That's how we're related…"

Claire shook her head, and then stood up. "I think it's safe to assume that you guys came here for a reason," she said, addressing the group in front of her. She made a quick motion with her hands. "Well, what is it?"

"Other than offering a family reunion to the two of you?" replied Luc, a smile on his grizzled features. "It's a matter of saving the world, as a matter of fact."

Claire sighed. "Of course… Guess you guys should make yourselves at home. This is an older apartment, so it's a bit bigger than your average 3 bedroom, still," she continued, looking around, "Two of you will have to sleep in the living room here, while the rest of you pair up."

"Me and Luc here will sleep in livin' room!" Said a happy Murray, flopping down on the couch. Claire couldn't resist a quick giggle at his antics. Murray looked at Luc, a huge smile on his face. "You ok with that, buddy?"

Luc gave a small smile, and then stretched out his side before walking over to Murray. "I'm ok with sleeping in here for the night, as long as no one else wishes to that is?"

Everyone else in the room shook their heads, causing Luc to shrug. "Guess we're in here tonight, Murray."

Claire began to walk towards a hallway on the right side of the room, beckoning for the rest of the gang to follow. "Here, I'll show you 4 where you'll be sleeping," she said, flipping on a switch on the wall that caused the hallway to fill with light. The group of 4 behind her followed with little hesitation.

"I would like to be the first one to say thanks, Claire," said Sly, walking faster so that he could catch up with her, only having to stop abruptly to avoid bumping into her as she stopped to open a door. "You barely know us, but you already trust us enough to let us stay here for a while.

Claire pushed the door at the side of the hallway in, revealing a rather spacious bedroom. "I don't like the fact that a bunch of thieves are in my house," she said, giving them all a nervous glare, "but if what the bat said is true, about us being related, then I don't really have a choice."

"I don't like the idea of a bunch of thieves myself," chimed Carmelita. "I'm in here because I don't have much of a choice, so I guess we are in the same boat."

Claire nodded, now noticing the badge that Carmelita displayed on her collar. Turning her attention back to the room, she continued on. "This is the master bedroom, but I never use it; too big for my tastes. I use it mainly as a guest room, so you guys, at least 2 of you anyway, are in luck."

"You go ahead, Sly. That room doesn't look very, well, wheelchair friendly," said Bentley, patting the armrest of his chair.

Penelope walked up behind him and patted him on the shoulder. "Yeah Sly, go ahead. Bentley and I will take the next one."

Claire stepped inside, putting her hands on her hips and facing away from the gang. "Bit of a mess, but it should work."

Sly stepped inside as Claire exited, placing the briefcase that he was still carrying on the top of the king size bed that was up against the wall. Sitting down at a small desk next to the bed, he flipped on an antique brass lamp, illuminating the desktop.

"Guess I'm in here too," came the slightly grumpy voice of Carmelita from the front of the room. She pushed aside the briefcase and then slumped onto the bed, a frumpy expression on her face. "I'm still getting used to all of this, ok? So don't expect anything crazy from me when we both get in this bed."

Sly chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it, _cheri_. If you want, I'll sleep on the floor." Smiling, he reached down and seemingly produced a book from thin air. Placing it on the desk, he brushed dust off of its cover. _Thievius Raccoonus _gleamed dimly, yet proudly from the front of it. Flipping it open, he thumbed through the ancient pages, quickly scanning each one. "Galleth mentioned someone else in his entries, but he never really told who they were. I had just denounced it as another Cooper story lost to the ages until just now." Tapping the page that he had stopped on once, he leaned in closer. "Here, he says '_She has been trying to gain entry for quite some time now, and has threatened to leave permanently'._ That's just randomly thrown into his entry; nothing else is there at all. At least it lends a bit of credibility to the story," he continued.

Carmelita yawned, and then sat up on the bed. Looking over, she noticed an alarm clock perched over to the side of the bed. "Holy crap, is that clock right?" she said, pointing to it as Sly turned around to look.

Sly looked out the window, confirming that it was indeed ten o'clock in the evening. "Guess so," he said, carefully closing the book in front of him. He spun his chair to the side and then levered himself up, and began to walk towards the bed before taking a flying leap into it, coming down with a thud and sending dust everywhere. Laughing, he rolled over to be greeted by a disgusted looking Carmelita. He shook his head, still laughing silently.

"Really, Cooper?" she said, using her hand to fan away the dust cloud that he had launched into the air.

"Sorry," he said, sitting up. "Just got carried away."

Carmelita slipped her boots off, and then stood back up. Still dressed in the outfit that Sly had given her back in Paris, she decided it would be better to slip into something more suited for sleeping. Making her way towards a large dresser in the corner of the room, she opened the creaky door and looked inside. Lucky for her, a blue nightgown with lace edging around the base was hung neatly from the rack inside. Taking it off of its hanger, she folded the soft garment over her arm and walked back to the bed. "I would really like it if you didn't watch me while I change, cooper," she said bluntly, reaching up to unbutton her blouse.

"You don't have to tell me twice," responded sly coolly, turning his back to the vixen on the opposite side of the bed. "Sorry if I was a little quick with that kiss back in Paris, I know things have been a little sketchy between us the last few months."

Carmelita carefully lifted her shirt over her head and discarded it in a heap in a corner of a room. Reaching down, she undid the buttons on her slacks and slid out of them, tossing them next to the shirt. "Sketchy might not be the best way to describe it," she responded. "Sorry if I was a little quick to want to sleep in the same bed as you."

Sly chuckled. "No arguments from me on that, lovely."

Carmelita snorted. Sly always used this flirty mood with her, no matter what the occasion. Reaching behind her, she undid the clasp on her bra and slid it down over her arms. Glancing quickly over her shoulder to make sure that Sly was still turned around, she grabbed the nightgown and slipped it on, being careful not to wrinkle the delicate fabric. Much to her surprise, it fit her almost perfectly. She brushed down a few raised spots on her fur, and then walked back to the bed. "Ok, I'm done."

Sly turned around, and winked, surprised at how good she managed to look in a simple nightgown. Loose as it may have been, it still flattered her figure exceptionally well. Her tail twitched impatiently, indicating that Sly had been looking for too long. Taking the hint, he decided to joke around. "What would you say if I said that I snuck a few peeks?"

Carmelita gave him a horrified look, her eyes widening. "You didn't!"

Sly chuckled, and pulled back the sheets of the bed. "Just kidding, calm down. I respect you too much for that, Carm. Although, you are rocking that gown rather nicely."

Carmelita walked over to the bed ignoring that last comment he had made, her cheeks still slightly red. "Good, because if you had actually looked, I would have beaten you senseless." Even though she was blushing, her voice has hard enough to make Sly realize that she was telling the truth.

Sly climbed into bed, not bothering to change his clothes as the ones he was in were rather comfortable. Lying down, he enjoyed the cool feel of the sheets. Carmelita climbed in next to him, keeping her distance. "Sly?" she asked, shifting around trying to get comfortable in the unfamiliar bed.

Sly turned around to face her, his head on his pillow. "Yeah?"

"What you said back in Paris, about wanting to love me, was… was all of that true?" Her voice was quiet.

"Every single word," he responded, closing his eyes. "If you are willing to give me another chance to prove myself to you, I will."

"That kiss certainly told me how you felt about me," she said, trying to keep her smile from messing with her voice.

Sly opened up his eyes again, looking into hers. She laughed, which earned her a confused look from him.

"The last time you looked at me like that, Ringtail, things began to escalate," she said, closing her eyes.

"Again with the pet names," he responded, maneuvering his tail over to Carmelita. "I guess it does fit me," he said, before beginning to tickle her midriff with the tip of his tail.

Carmelita batted it away playfully. "Quit it, Cooper!"

Sly shook his head in silent mirth, and brought his tickling assault to a close. He reached over and patted her on the shoulder. "Hold on, I have something for you."

Carmelita gave him a confused look as he got out of bed, walking around to the opposite side of the room where the briefcase he had brought in ended up. "What are-" but Sly shushed her before she could finish.

"Will you give me a second chance to prove to you that I am telling the truth?" he said as he leaned down and opened the small latch on the briefcase with a click. Rummaging around inside of it, he picked up a small cloth bundle, and took something out of it. He hid it behind him before Carmelita could get a good look at it, much to her dismay.

"Like I said back in Paris," replied Carmelita, now standing up next to the bed. "It will take a long time for me to fully trust you again, but I am willing to give you another chance. Now," she continued, sounding slightly annoyed. "What are you doing?"

"Something I have been wanting to do for a long time." He stood up from the briefcase, turning to face Carmelita. Keeping his hands behind him and out of sight, he walked over to a confused looking Ms Fox. Standing only a couple of feet in front of her, he placed one leg behind him and got down on one knee. Carmelita had a puzzled look on her face, but her eyes grew wide when she realized what it was exactly that Sly was doing. "Oh no…" she said.

"Oh, yes," replied Sly with a smile. It wasn't until she looked down at him that she realized that something was different.

"You aren't wearing your mask," she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. She had never seen him like this before. Even when he was a constable at Interpol, he wore it, saying that he just didn't feel complete without it for some reason. As she looked closer at him, she saw that the fur around his eyes was only a slightly darker shade than that of which around it. It wasn't as dark as the rings on his tail, mind you, but it wasn't as light as they gray that made up the majority of his fur.

"I wanted there to be as little as possible between for this moment," he replied. Drawing a small box from behind his back, he held it aloft between them.

It was an ornately carved wooden box; mahogany with teak inlays on the edges. The initials TWC were carved into the bottom left hand corner of it. The wood was worn from age, but it still shone just as brightly as the day it was carved.

Placing his right hand on top of the box, he looked Carmelita directly in the eyes. "I love you; three simple words with an all but simple meaning. I promise to be forever by your side," he continued, not once breaking his gaze from hers. "No matter the hardship, and no matter what may arise in the future."

Carmelita was blushing uncontrollably, but she couldn't look away. "I, I don't know what to say…" She felt her heartbeat quicken. "I, I mean you, I mean-"

"Shhh…" voiced Sly, shaking his head with a smile. "You really are cute when you're like this." Pausing a moment to allow Carmelita's blushing to subside, he took a deep breath. "Carmelita Montoya Fox," he said, opening the box with a smooth motion of his hand, revealing a gleaming golden band that swirled up to support a single flawless diamond. "Will you marry me?"

Carmelita looked at him, and then to the ring, and then back to him. Her eyes rolled back in to her head, and then she collapsed onto the floor with a thud.

**Roughly ten minutes later**

Carmelita groaned and then sat up. When she looked around, she noticed that she was still in the master bedroom, and to be more specific, tucked into the bed.

"Sleeping beauty finally awakens!" exclaimed Sly, walking over to her happily. Carmelita groaned yet again and flopped back down into the bed, throwing the sheets over her so as to cover her head.

"This is just too much for one week," she said, her voice muffled by the sheets.

Sly climbed into bed next to her. "What do you mean by that?"

"Being blamed for the Interpol thing, getting dragged into some world saving crap, almost getting killed by your flying, and now this," she replied quickly, pulling the sheets down and revealing her face. "It's been a big couple of days."

"I can agree with you on that," said Sly with a sort of half smile. "It's like I said before, though. It may be under some very weird circumstances, but I'm still glad that I get to be with you."

Carmelita adopted a look of deep thought, and then without warning rolled over on top of Sly, straddling him. Pinning both of his arms down to the bed, she leaned down and placed her muzzle next to his, only a short distance apart. "My answer, is yes," she said with a devilish grin. "I will marry you, Cooper." She tilted her head to the side and leaned down further, planting her lips on his. For several seconds, they meshed together in harmony. Sly pulled his arms free, and pulled Carmelita closer to him, pressing their bodies flush together. Several moments passed, and then Sly broke free of the kiss. Carmelita looked at him, "I've got you now, Ringtail…" she said in a sultry voice.

"I don't know what to say," he said smiling before planting another kiss on her lips.

"Some things, words just can't say," she replied before running her fingers through his hair. Leaning down once again on top of him, she kissed him on the tip of the nose.

Smiling, Sly leaned over to the nightstand and picked up the antique ring box that he had set there a few minutes prior. Opening it gently, he gingerly lifted the swirling ring out of its velvet home, and held it aloft between. Sly picked up Carmelita's left hand, which she was resting on his chest, and extended her hand. Taking the ring, he placed it gently on her left ring finger and pushed it down, settling it in place. Placing his hand behind hers, he brought it up, and kissed the ring that was now seated on her finger.

Carmelita's heart was racing. Never in her life had she been as happy as she was at this very moment. The love of her life, Sly Cooper, had just promised with this ring that he would be with her forever. As much as she didn't want to let herself trust him, as much as he had hurt her in the past, none of that mattered now. She leaned down and placed her muzzle on his neck, nibbling gently. Moving her head down, she kissed down the length of his neck and his collar. Bringing her hands forwards, she began to pry open the buttons that held his shirt in place, slowly working her way down until his chest was exposed. Kissing his soft, yet toned belly once, she looked up at him, smiling.

"Let's not let this get out of hand, now," chided Sly playfully.

"Some things are better left until marriage, yes?" She responded, still with a smile gracing her features. Her eyes met his, and began roving around where his mask normally lay. Her smile intensified for a second, and then cooled down again.

Sly wrapped both of his hands around her waist and drew her back down, their lips meeting once more. Deepening the kiss, their tongues began a dance together, and their lips began to move with more force.

Carmelita, without breaking the kiss, guided Sly's hands down to the bottom fringe of her nightgown. She took his fingers and wrapped them around the edge, pulling it up a fraction. Sly understood what she wanted him to do, and began to lift the gown upwards. Carmelita sat up on top of him and raised her arms, guiding the garment over her head as Sly lifted it off. Discarding the gown carelessly over the side of the bed, Sly drunk in every detail of his love's figure. From her deep chocolate eyes, down the soft edges of her face and the curves of her thin, graceful neck. Down past her shoulders and across her bare chest, along her thin waist, and down to her curvaceous hips. Sly sat up and placed a kiss on her collarbone, lingering for a moment. Slowly, he began to place kisses down her breast bone. Gently Pushing Carmelita down, he got on top of her and began to nuzzle her stomach. Moving down ever further, into dangerous territory, he placed his hands at the top of her undergarments and began to pull them down, but stopped after an inch.

"If I ever start to make you feel uncomfortable, Carm, let me know," said Sly, looking up with a caring smile on his muzzle. "I only aim to please."

Carmelita let out a sigh of contentment. "You are doing a lot of pleasing right now, Cooper." She heard Sly chuckle as he redirected his attention a little lower down. She leaned her head back, and felt a chill run through her as Sly rid her of her undergarments. She felt his warm breath, and let out a long sigh, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he made contact…

_**A/N-**_

_**Finally posted a new chapter! :DDDD I hope the extended length of this one kind of makes up for the fact that it has been over 2 weeks since I last posted… So, what did you guys think? I spent a LONG time trying to keep that whole scene between Sly and Carmelita from sounding corny and overdone, but it still sounds a little that way to me anyhow. Sly's long lost relative, Claire, seems fairly nice, no? I mean, if a bunch of international criminals came to your house and said that you were related, how would you react? I apologize in advance if the next chapter takes a while to come out, I have a lot of stuff to do, so The Forgotten Cooper is going to be set on the back burner for a while. On an unrelated note, SLY COOPER: THIEVES IN TIME! OHMAHGAWD! Ahem… who else is excited about it? **_


	9. News PREVIEW

Chapter 9 (PREVIEW)- News

_**Authors Note**_**: Holy Crap… Has- Has it been 4 months since I have uploaded a new chapter…? I have been unusually busy at school, and my personal life has gotten a tad bit more complicated (in both good and bad ways) so my mind has been absolutely EVERYWHERE, so I'm sorry if you were expecting a full chapter (which you more than deserve). I just looked back at my traffic stats for this story, and it never ceases to amaze me how this thing can still get over 1k views a month even though it has been all but abandoned for the last few months. First off, let me apologize for taking so freakin' long to get even to this point, and second of all, THANK YOU! If you are reading this now, it means that you are awesome! Thank you so much for supporting this story with your reads, as my only rewards for writing this story is a little number in the corner of my screen, and a review should you choose to leave one. I'm not going to make any promises as to when the next FULL chapter is going to be up, but expect it soon! It could be anywhere from a few hours to a few days. Now, without further ado, I present to you, 4 months in the making, a sneak peak at Chapter 9!**

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><p>Ambroise was growing impatient; it had been several hours since he had assigned Zero to take care of his <em>raccoon problem<em>, and he had yet to hear back from anyone. He let out a long sigh that reverberated around his personal chamber, and then dug his claws into the fur armrest of his stone chair. Drawing his hand back slowly, he felt his razor sharp talons effortlessly slice through the thick hide. Allowing a low growl to grow in the back of his throat, he leaned forwards to his desk with a sharp motion. He reached out and gently touched a small leather bound journal, Anette's journal, that was placed in front of him. He slowly tapped the cover of the book twice, and then positioned his hand to the side as if he were going to open it. He inched the cover open a fraction, and then let it drop, sending up a small cloud of dust.

_Every time I open this damned thing, _he thought to himself, _I just get farther and farther away from the answer that I seek._

It was true; he always managed to find something tucked away in its pages that could be interpreted as a clue. A reference to a chain of small islands in the Arctic Ocean, or maybe a nod to what was once a brothel in Eastern Germany, It didn't matter, they always ended up being a false trail.

"A wild goose chase, yes? None of the leads actually lead anywhere"

Ambroise looked up slowly, hiding his slight surprise with a long-practiced emotionless face. Standing, or laying as the case may have it, near the entrance to his chamber was a long adder with black and green stripes running the length of his body. Ambroise pushed the journal slightly away from himself, and towards the serpent.

The adder's body made a cool hissing noise as it slid over the stone floors of the chamber towards his master's desk. Propping himself up with a few of his steely coils, he peered over the edge of the desk at the journal. After a few seconds of silent investigation, he turned his gaze to the tiger opposite him.

Ambroise stared back into the unblinking, milky white eyes of the snake. They seemed to be searching him; for what, he did not know. Ambroise decided that their little staring contest had gone on long enough, and spoke up, breaking the deafening silence of the room.

"I suspect you came for something, 6; what is it?" asked the tiger in what amounted to a low growl.

The snake continued to stare blankly into his eyes, "There are more… pressing matters at the moment than chasing down another false lead," stated the snake, his voice quiet, yet eerily cool.

Ambroise folded his hands in front of him, and leaned back into his chair, not once breaking eye contact with the serpent. Even if he wanted to break contact, he wasn't sure he would be able to at this point. "Such as?"

"Our little raccoon friend has complicated things once more," hissed the snake, his tongue flicking out at the end of his statement. "He seems to have a real knack for this sort of thing, yes?"

The tiger's patience was running thin. His occult specialist, Ethan, was the best in the world at what he did, yet he had a tendency to make his thoughts a little less than clear for the average listener. Ambroise took a mental breath, and prodded his specialist with another question.

"What- How has he complicated things?" He asked, his voice the same low pitch as earlier. He unfolded his hands and began to rhythmically clack his claws against the stone of his chair.

The snake tilted his head slightly to the side, his tongue flicking out quickly once more. "He has found Claire, Master Roush. He is currently residing at her apartment."

Ambroise's claws shot downwards with an earsplitting crack, causing stone fragments to chip from the chair and fly in all directions.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>_**: I know it isn't a lot, but I just wanted to let you faithful readers know that I have not abandoned this story. I apologize once again for it having been so darn long since I have updated. Seriously, I can't believe how long it's been. It feels so good to be back writing! This story is still alive and kicking! Tune in next week (or whenever) for the exciting conclusion! Well, not conclusion, more like the beginning of the middle of the story. Rising action? Eh, whatever you call it, the next chapter should be up pretty soon! And don't be shy, leave a review! I love it when you guys do that. You actually have a review to thank for me writing this chapter, as I'm not connected to the internet right now I can't remember the name, but say thanks to the girl who read all 8 of the other chapters on her phone in one sitting. SHE is the reason that you are reading this now! **

**Until next time, friends,**

**-Jake**


	10. An Inside Job

Chapter 10 – An Inside Job

The cool night air wrapped around every inch of his body, the dilapidated building cried out with creaks and groans of age as he placed hand over hand on the sills of windows that had long seen better days. Grasping at a thin wooden edge, the dark figure hoisted one leg upwards and rested his bare foot on it to take what little weight his body had off of his arms. Quickly checking that he was balanced with a quick look down to the late night streets of Liverpool, he took one hand off of the edge and slowly extended his claws. Reaching over to the glazed pane of glass, he brushed the dust off and made contact with his needle-sharp nail. He scored a quick circle into the surface without making a single sound, and then filled it with a small smiling face. He withdrew his hand slightly, paused, and then quickly brought it down to his side. Leaning off of the sill to admire his handiwork, he momentarily lost his balance and had to make a rather ungainly grab towards the wall to keep from falling from his precarious perch high above the English streets. Sighing in relief as soon as he regained his place, he moved a hand above the sill and continued his way to the top of the building.

He made it several more feet without notable incident, but ran into a bit of an obstacle as he was nearing the eve of the roof; a large neon marquee that looked like it dated back to the fifties jetted out from the side of the building, blocking his way. Placing the majority of his weight on his arms, he looked at first left, and then to the right. Seeing no way around it, he slowly reached a hand up to it and placed it gingerly on the rusting edge of the sign. Making sure he had a firm grasp, he brought his right hand up and joined it opposite his left making carefully sure not to latch onto the aged glass tubes that were bolted to the front and back of the sign.

He mumbled something under his breath, but it was lost to a breeze that passed from his left, leaving his chilled body in its wake. Sighing once, he reaffirmed his grasp on the bottom of the sign, and then pushed off with his feet so that he was dangling by his arms from the edge of the sign. Constricting his midriff, he was able to start swinging back and forth, forwards and backwards, which elicited some unwanted groans of strain from the aged metal fixture. With one final heave, he let go with his right arm and, using his newly gained momentum from swinging, launched himself upwards to grab onto a crack off to the right of the sign.

As soon as his hand made contact with the wall, the moorings of the sign broke clean and rent the air around it with a splitting _crack_. Newly freed from its prison on the wall, the entire apparatus plummeted downwards to the (thankfully) deserted streets far below. Left hanging by a single claw, the silhouetted figure reached quickly upwards and cemented his free hand into the crack and vaulted himself upwards onto the roof of the building. Landing silently, yet ungracefully on the flat, dusty roof of the building, he dropped into a crouch to catch his breath. Steeling his eyes, he looked out over the darkened horizon. After several seconds of silent investigation, he locked his eyes onto an illuminated sign in the distance.

Dropping a hand into his breast pocket, he pulled out a small slip of paper with almost illegible handwriting scribbled into the center of it;

'_West Park Apartments 122'_

Lowering his eyes momentarily to the paper, he turned it over in his hand and inspected the left-most lower corner; the number '13', a signature of sorts, was written roughly, but plainly enough to read without much issue.

He lifted his eyebrows quickly, and then reset them back to their normal position. Bringing his eyes back upwards to make a mental note of the sign's location, he stood up and began to run towards the edge of the building. Planting his foot on the raised edge of the roof, he leaped off of the edge and disappeared into the inky blackness. He left no trace of his presence, save for a small smiling face drawn into the dust of the smooth, concreted roof.

The chill of the night air was multiplied tenfold against his fur as he plummeted downwards towards the streets. Snapping his arms into a folded position against his body, he braced himself and fell, upright, into the putrid contents of a large dumpster. Disappearing from sight for a few seconds, he emerged from the belly of the receptacle covered in bits and pieces of refuse.

Without so much as changing his expression, he placed a hand on the edge of the dumpster and hauled himself out. Landing with a squelch on the darkened alley path, he reached to the lower hem of his shirt, and then pulled upwards lifting it cleanly off. Discarding it into the dumpster he had recently used as a landing pad, he reached down and began to unbutton his pants. Being the zipperless kind, they were relatively easy to step out of, and they, too, were placed into the dumpster.

Now completely naked, he looked around the base of the dumpster. Squinting his eyes, he finally found what he was searching for; a small piece of glass that could be used as a mirror. Picking it up with a deft flick of his wrist, he held it up in a way that it reflected moonlight onto his face, causing a small glint of gold to emit from his left canine tooth. Inspecting his spotted features in his dim reflection, the cheetah reached up and smoothed his disheveled whiskers along the edge of his face. Lowering the angle of the mirror, he gave himself a quick once-over to make sure that no unsightly pieces of trash had managed to find their way onto his pelt. Satisfied with what he saw, he tossed the glass fragment into the dumpster and began to walk out of the alley, yet stopped before getting to the sidewalk. Remembering that he was in a state that the general public would find unsuitable, he leaned his head out and checked to see that no one was on the street. Sighing inwardly with relief at not seeing a soul, he stepped out onto the sidewalk and made his way in the general direction of the sign that he had seen earlier, making especially sure to avoid the lights of streetlamps should someone decide to venture outside. At 12:30 a.m., it was unlikely that this would happen, but it was still a possibility.

20 frigid minutes later, the cheetah arrived at the sign, and the apartments that it indicated. Surveying the numbers on the sides of the building quickly, he located the one that he was seeking and made his way towards it. Reaching the base of the building, he placed his hand on the cool stone and looked up. Knowing that the front door was probably a very bad idea, he let his eyes roll over the rough wall and made notes of all the cracks, spikes, signs, moorings, and anything and everything else that could be used as a potential handhold to reach the window 2 stories above him. Letting his hand off of the wall, he cracked his knuckles and backed up enough to get a short running start. Starting forwards, he bounded up the wall and strategically placed his hands and feet in the locations that he had noted earlier, making special care to keep his body at a distance from the wall to prevent scraping his exposed, more sensitive areas. Arriving at the sill of the window in mere seconds, he gently grasped the edge of the window and pulled upwards. Much to his delight (it took so long to cut glass with claws, and his were in much need of a sharpening as it were) the window lifted smoothly and without uttering a single sound. Peeking inside, he made note of the contents of the room, paying special attention to the 2 figures who appeared to be sleeping in the bed on the right side. Cocking his head to the side, he tried to sift through the darkness to identify them.

'_Raccoon and fox… expected…_' he thought to himself. Hoisting himself inside, he landed softly into the room and immediately dropped into a crouch. He padded forwards as silently as possible, trying to keep from alerting the two in the bed. Halfway across the room, he froze when he heard movement from the bed to his side. Looking quickly over, he saw the raccoon begin to shiver. Feeling a breeze on his tail, he dropped to all fours and rolled under the bed to avoid possible detection.

Several uneventful seconds passed, and then the entire frame of the bed began to creak, sending a shower of dust to land on his body. Without warning, a pair of feet appeared from the edge of the bed, and began to walk to the window that, unbeknownst to the raccoon, had been opened only moments earlier.

"What is it, Cooper?" came a sleepy sounding voice from the top of the bed. Closing his eyes and perking his ears, the cheetah listened. A gentle _click_ came from across the room, followed by a sigh.

"Must've left the window open, don't worry about it," came the response of the equally sleepy sounding raccoon.

The bed began to creak again, causing the cheetah to reopen his eyes. Unable to see anyone standing in the room, he guessed that the raccoon had gotten back into bed.

Several minutes of silence passed before the cheetah was confident enough that the bed's occupants were back asleep. Slowly, he edged himself out from beneath. Positioning himself back into a low crouch, he made his way to the door and slipped out of the room without a single sound.

A sizable hallway greeted him on the other side of the door, and he was momentarily torn as to which direction to go. Deciding to follow his gut, he began to make his way left and towards the living room, and towards the sound of gentle snoring. Peeking out of the hallway, he immediately spotted what he was looking for; an old bat seated upright in an overstuffed chair in the corner. Locking eyes with the aging figure, he began to walk towards him, being careful not to wake the hippo that was asleep on the couch.

"Glad you could make it, Aero," voiced the bat in what amounted to a low whisper. "I was beginning to think that you had not received my note."

Stopping directly in front of Luc, he bowed his head quickly. "Too many patrols on the roofs of the buildings in this damned city; I had to take an alternate route."

"Doesn't matter how you got here, I'm just glad you made it. Now, before I introduce you to the others, let's get you some clothes…"

_**A/N: Well, that certainly took a while. Who would have thought that developing a video game could take so much free time away from somebody? :D I really am sorry that it once again took so long for a chapter to come out, but I feel the want to write welling back up inside of me. I think a break was exactly what I need to get back into the swing of things. Expect the chapters to start coming out like they did last year; one every few days or so, because I have the entire story planned out! And remember, I am writing this story for YOU! That's right, YOU who are reading this right now! Where I am it is midnight, but I just had to finish this chapter for you guys. So, until next time, enjoy your collective lives : )**_

_**-Jake**_


	11. Making Acquaintances

Chapter 11 – Making Acquaintances

_**A/N: I TOLD you that they would be coming out like I did them last year : ) School has slowed down and the game I am spearheading is well into development, so I can take a bit of a break and actually get some darn writing done! Plus, I have an incentive to finish; Sly 4 (no matter how freaking amazing that it will be) will completely mess up the story and continuity that I have set up, and seeing as how I have the basic framework for a sequel in the works when I finish TFC, I want to start cranking out chapters like there is no tomorrow. Oh, have I told you all that since this fic has been so successful that a sequel is in the works? No? Well, isn't that a nice bit of news for some of my more dedicated readers ; ) **_

Sly Cooper was slumbering peacefully, caught up in dreams of pure bliss brought on by the very real bliss that he had shared with the lovely red fox laying flush next to him. He was the happiest raccoon in the world who believed (quite truthfully so) that nothing could get any better than it already was; he was reunited with family, he had amazing and loyal friends, and most excitingly to him, he had become engaged to who he saw as the single loveliest creature on all the earth. Everything was perfect, except for the slight chill of a breeze that brushed playfully against his fur. Shivering slightly, his still sleepy eyes crept slowly open to fall on the window on the opposite side of the room. Identifying it as the source of the offending draft, he gently eased away from Carmelita, trying his absolute best to not interrupt what he was sure were absolutely wonderful dreams. Much to his annoyance, the bed creaked as he sat up, causing his love to stir. Sitting motionless for a few seconds to ensure that he had not woken her, he swung his feet out over the side of the bed and stood up. Scratching his exposed midriff gently, he began to walk towards the open window, the air growing cooler as he got near.

"What is it, Cooper?" came a sleepy sounding voice from the bed behind him. He let out a sigh knowing that he had inadvertently woken her.

He grasped the cool metal of the window frame and pulled it closed, causing it to issue a smooth _click_. "Must've left the window open, don't worry about it," he replied, trying to mask his self disappointment. Turning on his heel, he silently padded back over to the bed and sat down. Before he lay fully down he planted a quick kiss on Carmelita's cheek, causing her to snuggle down into her pillow. Even though her eyes were closed, Sly could almost see her deep, chocolate colored eyes delving into his soul. Smiling inwardly, he lay his head down and pulled the sheets up over himself, ridding any trace of a chill that the open window had imparted upon him. Warm and contented, he fell asleep almost instantly.

Several hours of uneventful, yet peaceful sleep passed by until something that a closed window could not prevent tickled Sly's features; a ray of morning sunshine.

Yawning deeply, the raccoon sat up in bed and looked down to where he had last seen Carmelita, but to his surprise she wasn't there. Knowing that he was naked, he made a quick look to the doorway to make sure that no one was near. Reassured, he stepped groggily out of bed and made his way around the room picking up bits of his clothing that had been carelessly discarded the night previous.

After a couple of minutes had passed, all had been found and applied except for one key item; his mask. Standing in the middle of the room, hands akimbo, he looked to the four corners of the room each in turn. Disappointed, yet undeterred, he took a step towards the door only to notice that something didn't seem right. Stopping momentarily to think about what it might be, he looked down, and then began to laugh.

Unbuttoning his pants, he slipped out of them and turned them around to the proper direction before stepping back in. Patting down the pleated edges of his disguise-turned-outfit, he continued on his way to the door.

As he got closer to the living room, he began to hear faint traces of conversation floating towards him. He couldn't quite make it out, but he was certain that there was a voice mixed in that he didn't recognize. Several steps later, he could finally start to make out what was being said;

"Amby knows that Cooper is here," said the unfamiliar voice. "And to say that he is unhappy would be an understatement."

A more familiar voice, one belonging to Luc, responded. "I don't feel like I need to tell you all that staying here is no longer safe for any of us." There was a pause. "That means you as well, Ms. Claire."

"WHAT!" came a shrill voice immediately after Luc finished. Sly guessed that it belonged to his recently found relative. "Do you expect me to run off with people that I just met?"

"Sly and the others did it with me," replied Luc. At this, Sly stepped into the room and cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the others. "Ah! Cooper is awake! Now we can really get to work."

Sly rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around the room before locking eyes with the bat. "I still don't know why I decided to go with you so easily," voiced Sly. "but I'm glad I did." After this statement, he looked at Claire who in turn looked at Carmelita.

"Hey, don't look at me. I was brought here almost against my will."

"By the way," said Bentley from his location next to the couch. "Good morning, Sly."

Sly chuckled. "Yeah, good morning to you guys, too." He walked forwards and positioned himself between Murray and Penelope. "What did I hear about it not being safe here anymore?"

Luc responded to his query without hesitation. "Ah! Before we get to that, I almost forgot." He walked a few steps to his left to stand next to a cheetah that Sly did not recognize. "This," he continued, "is Aero." The spotted creature bowed slightly in Sly's direction.

Sly looked him up and down, noting everything of interest about him. He was dressed rather plainly and haphazardly, as if he had just thrown on a set of clothes without looking at them, but that could not hide his lean figure from showing through underneath the thin layers of fabric. His entire body looked like a spring that was coiled and ready to be unleashed. Most surprising about his appearance, however, was his spots. All cheetahs have spots, this is common knowledge, but they are well accepted to be black. This cheetah standing in front of sly, however, was covered from head to tail in silverfish gray spots that gave him an almost shimmering appearance.

"Known as Two to the rest of the Numbers, myself included," continued Luc, "he is the messenger of the group, and has athletics that rival even yours, Cooper. More importantly than that, however, is that he is my fly on the wall, my ear on the inside, that I have tasked with spying on Ambroise."

The oddly spotted cheetah spoke up. "I was recruited to the numbers under the promise that I would be able to put my skills to good use. _Good use_, as it turns out, means running illegal and morally wrong operations in order to hunt down some fabled treasure that has apparently been lost to time." He shrugged. "They threatened to kill me if I left, so I decided to do the next best thing; work with them to work against them. Luc here must have seen that something wasn't right with me, and approached me about it. At this point, it was no secret that I didn't exactly like my position, and as it turns out neither did he. He offered me a position to help him undermine the operations of the Numbers as a whole, so naturally I jumped on the opportunity."

"Sorry to interrupt," interrupted Sly, directly addressing Aero for the first time, "but you and Luc keep referencing the Numbers."

Aero cocked his head to the side. "Yes?"

"I know that they are some personal army or something for a dude whose day we are really trying to ruin, but who exactly are they?" After saying this, Sly looked to Luc expectantly. "I assume, since you used to work for the guy, that you knew your co-workers?"

Luc gave him a sharp-toothed smile that sent shivers down his spine. "Sorry, it must have slipped my mind." He cleared his throat in a rather raspy manner before continuing. "Number One: Mikael Kozdras. A bit of an eclectic background, this one… A Russian born leopard trained in a Japanese fighting style that focuses on swords and other sharp instruments. He could cut the wings from a fly, but his devotion to his 'art' left him a broken man; he is an incurable psychopath that sees no difference between natural death and cold-blooded murder, and Ambroise has had to reprimand him several times for 'accidentally' keeping a rotting body or 2 in his quarters for company."

Carmelita turned to look at him, a cold sheen in her eyes. "He killed my friends at Interpol…"

Luc did not respond, and merely continued on with the next member. "I believe you have all already come to know Number Two," he said, gesturing to Aero. "Is there anything that you want to make clear about yourself?"

Aero sighed, rolling his eyes across the small crowd of people in front of him. "I have a story, but I would rather share it when I come to know you all better. I know that Luc has a lot of faith in you, but I'm still a little nervous."

"Very well," continued the aging bat. "Number Three: Karter Verdun. A black rat that grew up on the streets of England not far from here. The stealth expert of the Numbers, he is in charge of infiltration and espionage.

"Number Four; Celine Vakaruni. A rather beautiful mink and a hand to hand expert that is tasked with jobs that require a death with no bloodshed.

"Number Five: A lynx that goes by the name of Deyna Parrish. He is skilled in explosives, and handles tasks that require very little subtlety. We have him to thank for destroying that airport just recently.

"Number Six: Ethan Khal. A snake that is a very important imformant to Ambroise thanks to his connections to the occult. He has the ability to call upon the remnants of the dead anywhere in the world to act as his eyes, ears, arms, and legs.

"Number Seven: Lucas Marlin. He _was_ a reconnaissance expert that worked hand in hand with Three. You all might now him as that one unlucky bastard that thought it would be a good idea to show up at your safehouse at the same time as I, and we all know how that turned out.

"Number Eight: Weyland Rhodes. A wolverine, but not like one that you would expect. He is very slimly built for a wolverine, and doesn't rely on brute strength to take town his opponents. He specializes in thrown weapons such as knives, and he was brought on to the Numbers thanks to his rather… _extreme _views on how a problem should be dealt with.

"Number Nine: Neyla Alighera. She encountered a rather dreadful series of events a few years ago that left her horrendously scarred, both physically and mentally. There is not a lot that I know about her, as she joined shortly before I 'left'. I do know that she replaced the previous Nine after Ambroise tore him to pieces in a fit of rage.

"Number Ten: Ian Makavelich. A Russian born Hyena and another yet another incurable psychopath. Instead of placing no value on others, however, he has so little regard for his own life that I am honestly surprised that he has made it this far. He was the pilot of the jet that tried to shoot us down as we were flying from France. He will do anything that Ambroise tells him to. For example, as far as I know that was his first time to ever fly a jet. His ability to rapidly adapt and throw caution to the wind makes him especially dangerous.

"Number Eleven. We call him The Hunter. We do not know his name, and he has no voice to tell us what it is, as he is a mute. He is a large black bear that specializes in devising and placing traps, but he very rarely does any fieldwork.

"Number Twelve: Drake Cassius." He turned to look at Carmelita. "He was also present during the destruction of Interpol HQ. He was our resident pyrotechnics experts, and has an interest in fire that extends to an almost sexual level. He is quick to act, and has a very short fuse when it comes to his temper… I have had the smattering of fur on my wings singed on multiple occasions thanks to a misplaced statement.

"Next up is me, Luc A. Gaud. I specialized in psychological warfare, and used fear tactics to get information from those that had it and to mentally cripple those who might get in my way.

"The next 2, Fourteen and Fifteen, I know not of. They were still being recruited at the time that I decided to call it quits." He looked around the room to see 7 sets of eyes staring at him intently. "There is 1 more," he continued. "Number Zero: Arcella Lione, the bitch of the bunch. She is the leader of the Numbers, and is second in command to Ambroise himself. She handles anything that she is given, and even leads specific missions on her own without Amby's permission or authorization. Mentally unstable, she regulates her disorder with a type of custom medication that has an astronomical price tag attached to it. You do not want to mess with her if you value your life at all." He readjusted the holster, and the pistol that it contained, underneath his wing and made his way to the couch. Sitting down with a small grunt of exertion, he crossed his legs. "I also assume that you wish to know why Ambroise has lived as long as he has?" He was answered by a bob of Sly's head. "Very well. It was well before my time, but I managed to unearth a good amount of information pertaining to the issue." The others remained silent. "You might want to grab a seat, this is one hell of a story…"


	12. Bird's Eye View

Chapter 12 – Bird's Eye View

The sky had long since disappeared into the swirling snows of the arctic blizzard, blotted out by countless snowflakes which cast a chilling veil across the barren, frozen landscape. Occasional outcrops of charcoal-colored rocks, ravaged by the hissing wind, were the only thing to break up the monotonous and vicious tundra that seemed to shoot off endlessly in all directions. 2 owls, 1 larger than the other, could only barely be seen through the maelstrom of snow and ice, trudging along and leaving small tracks in their wake that were quickly tidied up and hidden by the blizzard that seemed oblivious to their presence. One of the owls, the smaller one, used his wings to tighten the snow flecked swatches of cloth wrapped around his body to keep him warm. The larger owl turned to look at him, a slight smile tinged with cruelty played at his beak.

"Feeling cold, are we?" The owl's deep voice was as chilling as the air around them; barely above a whisper but as easily heard as if they were in a quiet room only inches from each other. The owl trailing him, who appeared to be in his late twenties, folded his ears back against the hissing wind and steeled his features not wanting to show any sign of weakness. The larger predator laughed dryly and then continued on his way.

'_Damn it all to hell_,' thought the smaller owl, glaring at his aging father from behind. He had agreed to come on this expedition to leave his mark in history as one of the first explorers to make it to the South Pole, but he hadn't counted on the whole thing taking such a turn for the worst. As soon as their ship had landed on the icy coasts of the bottom of the earth nearly a week ago, the ice froze around it almost instantly, locking it hopelessly in place. Ever since then, they had been trudging along southward through blizzard after blizzard, stopping only occasionally to eat from their dwindling supply of food. The bitter air had begun to form tendrils of ice on the tips of his exposed feathers, weighing him down heavily. Very close to his physical breaking point, but unwilling to submit to the elements, he continued doggedly forwards.

The larger owl peered into the distance with his seasoned eyes, looking for anything to use as shelter from the battering elements that were beginning to take their toll. He was hardier than his son in both mind and body, but he too had his limits. Through the swirling torrent of snow, he spied a small opening in a rocky formation to his right. Turning with a labored huff, he began to make his way to what he saw as temporary salvation. As he approached it, son in tow, he raised his talons and struck down on the iced outer edge of the opening. A shower of ice and snow shot forth as his razors made contact and disappeared into the air around them, leaving a considerably larger entrance to the newly found cave. The two birds managed to squeeze in without much issue. As soon as they were out of the harsh storm, everything went quiet; the only things that gave away the harsh environment outside was a low rumble and a chilling breeze coming from their entrance.

"Clockwerk," stated the older owl bluntly, beckoning for his son. The younger owl stopped gazing around the large, dim cavern and made his way to his father.

"Yes?" he replied, an almost imperceptible hint of fear and uncertainty tingeing his voice.

"Check the deeper parts of the cave for anything that may be… useful."

Knowing that it was unwise to disobey his father's wishes, even if they didn't fully make sense to him, Clockwerk turned with a ruffle of his feathers and began to walk into the faint light that was the rear of the cave. As he got farther and farther along, the icy walls began to get closer and closer until they eventually formed a small entryway, almost a door of sorts. Squeezing through, the ice touching his feathers giving him an odd cooling sensation, he appeared on the other side in a large chamber.

If he were the sort to think such things, he would have noticed just how incredible it looked; the walls were made of a black rock that had veins of silver running throughout them creating a beautiful, lustrous web of the precious metal. As impressive as the walls of the large round room were, the ceiling was most stunning of all; it was not rock, but a dome of blue ice that filled the room with a pale, ethereal glow that made the smooth granite floors swim with light. Not phased by any of it, the large owl continued on his way through the room in his search for 'useful' items. How anything in a long-forgotten cave could be useful, he did not know, but he had to at least pretend to check to please his father.

Without warning, a large crash came from the far edge of the room. His interest piqued, he slowly began to walk forwards, being careful to not let his talons slip out from under him on the smooth rock. As he approached the far edge of the room, a faint sound caused his finely-tuned ears to perk up.

"Water?" he whispered aloud as he turned a corner leading to the left. Surely enough, a rather sizeable cascade of water was flowing from the icy ceiling and hitting the ground with noisy splashes. His eyes followed the flow of the water until they finally landed on a large, jagged block of ice almost as large as he was. Looking around, he saw fresh chips of ice scattering the floor. '_Must have broken free from the ceiling and fallen,_' he thought to himself. Taking a careful step forwards (cold water and feathers do not mix well) he inspected the large chunk. Seeing that if didn't have much water on it from the fall, he extended a wing and pulled the immensely heavy block towards him. Remembering the cool breeze that had assaulted him and his father near the entrance of the cave, he began to size up the chunk of ice as a potential 'door' for their shelter. Realizing that it was darker in the recesses of the cave than he had remembered, he latched onto the block and began to pull it back to the entrance.

"That should do the trick," mumbled Clockwerk's father, Laark, as he pushed the large block of ice that his son had found into the hole that he had created to enter the cave. Shoving against it with one final heave, it settled into place with a satisfying _thunk._ He turned to face his son in the darkness. "We have no food," he stated bluntly.

"No," answered the younger owl.

"We have no fire."

"No," answered the younger owl.

"We have no hope."

"No," answered the younger owl.

Laark smiled a genuine smile, and laughed heartily. "See you in the morning, then! I am going to get some… rest."

Clockwerk had been staring at the sleeping body of his father for an hour, unsure of absolutely everything. His mind was cloudy, as if someone were shining a light in a smoke filled room. Why had his fathered seemed so happy to be on the brink of death, especially a death like this? He would have wanted to go out in a fiery flurry of feathers, locked in mortal combat with some great rival; but no, he was slowly succumbing to hunger and the elements like some old bat. Hunger… the mere thought of food sent almost unbearable pains through his body. What little food they had in their packs had been sifted through, but the frost and moisture of the environment had rendered it inedible. '_We don't have a fire,'_ he thought. '_What food could I _**possibly** _find in this frozen hell to eat?' _

His mind was cold, but something clicked deep inside a part of him that he had never felt before. "That could work," he said aloud to no one in particular, an odd glimmer in his eyes. He walked over to the recently installed door and tapped at it with the tip of his wing. He ran his eyes over it, and then darted them a little to the right to let them rest once again on his father, who had fallen asleep on the icy floors of the cave only feet from the entrance. Clockwerk blinked a couple of times, and then slipped a wing into the crack that separated the ice door from the walls of the cave. Much to his surprise, it moved rather easily. Glancing once again at his father, he cocked his head. Huffing once, he dislodged the door and kept it from falling with one wing. He let go of it and let it tip forwards to his father.

A large streak of red shot out from underneath the ice with considerable force and splattered the surrounding area with a large blotch of the bright liquid. He had intended for the ice to fully flatten his father, but the large block had tipped to the side and only managed to crush his skull. Clockwerk didn't see any of the horror, though. He only saw one thing.

"Finally, something to eat," he stated almost joyfully aloud, clacking his beak. "Sorry about the whole 'killing you with a block of ice' thing, I'm sure you would have done the same to me if we were in here any longer." He stepped forwards and pushed the block of ice aside, dragging a small piece of his father along with a fresh red smear and a grating sound as fragments of skull and beak scraped the floor. Without hesitation, he picked up a bony fragment and ran his tongue over it. He stared off into space, a faint red outline around his beak.

"Tastes like disapproval," he whispered, the walls of the cave amplifying his voice considerably. He licked it again, this time lingering on a corner of it. "Tastes like failure," he continued. He stuck the entire fragment of skull in his mouth next, lapping at the stained shard hungrily. "Tastes wonderful!"

His father was nearly twice the size of him, and by eating only a small amount each day he was able to survive nearly a month and a half. The cold and ice acted as a natural preservation device for the meat, and the odd spring at the rear of the cave a convenient source of water. The interior of the cave was a rather frightful sight at this point; everything from the walls to the floor had been stained a glistening red, and this presented those who found the hollow with a bit of a shock.

Two large polar bears looked hesitantly around the cave, shouting out and hoping for an answer. Hearing nothing, they skirted around a large chunk of ice that sat in the center of the main entrance and continued into the deeper parts of the cave.

Deep colored walls, an ice ceiling, sparkling floors; they had never seen anything quite like it. They split up and stepped tentatively around the outer edges of the atrium, scanning everything along the way in the hope of finding whoever—or whatever—had made the mess in the entrance, and as they turned a corner, what greeted them appeared far more like a what than a who.

Frozen shards of dull crimson blood caked the feathers of the still form of what appeared to be an owl huddled in the darkened corner. The scratch marks clawed into the ice around the pitiful shape, as well as his flesh-rent talons, indicated that it had been there for quite some time trying, however fruitlessly it's efforts may have been, to move around.

The two bears shot each other a solemn glance and slowly positioned themselves on either side of the cold figure, preparing to carry it out. Before they could lift him, however, he wheezed to life in a series of coughs and shivers. He creakily turned his head to face each of them in turn.

"Who…" he took a deep breath, as if even the simplest of words taxed him beyond his limit. "… Are you." Everything around him meshed together to form a single shapeless blur of color. The only thing that had alerted him to the 2 creatures was the sound of their shuffling across the numbingly cold floor. His body shutting down due to the cold, what little he could see began to disappear as he slowly lost consciousness.

All was black.

_A.N.-_

_Ok, not a full and complete chapter, but I know all of you are getting tired of waiting for a new one, so here ya go! I am writing and about to upload this while in the middle of school, as I am in my one class with an internet connection (my laptop is fairly picky, you see) and want to put it out on the web for you all to critique and hopefully enjoy. The next chapter (or next part of this chapter depending on how you want to look at it) should be up in the next week or so. Once again, sorry for being such a slow writer, and thank you all for staying with the story for this long! _

_Peace, yo_

_ -Jake _


	13. Warm Welcome

Chapter 13 – Warm Welcome

Clockwerk was awake, but only just. He had no idea of what his surroundings might be, and even less of an idea of why he should care. He was sure of one fact, however; he seemed to be floating, and this troubled his tired conscience greatly. His icy, broken mind slowly began to take in what his frozen, useless eyes could not as he pieced everything that had transpired over the past month back into place.

'_Ice… Block of ice… Food and father… No… No father… Food…_' His mind was running as clearly as he could force it too, but the long exposure to the elements that his body had been subject to had taken its toll.

'_Cat… Where?' _His eyes, though frozen shut, managed to scrunch together as he pushed his mind passed its limit. He was remembering finding something, no, some being in the hollow that was almost his grave. His brow relaxed as his mind was finally taxed beyond its limitations. His grip on the world lessened, and he fazed himself out of it.

…

The two bears who had found the owl carried him, as well as another shapeless object, through the icy torrent of wind outside of the cave until they came to a small hollow in a crag of rocks blocked with a dull, wooden door. One of the bears carefully released his grasp on the strange bird and fiddled with the bronze lock until it opened with a click that was lost to the deafening winds. He threw open the door, stirring up a flurry of snow that had gathered on it in the process, and then lifted his odd finds as he helped his brother carry them into the warmth of their home.

…

The owl shivered and flexed his tired muscles in an attempt to shake the frost from his bones. The brothers had been working tirelessly in an attempt to save the battered creature, and had come close to abandoning him on more than one occasion, but the tired specimen always seemed to defy the odds and come back from the brink of apparent death. The bears had worked in shifts for the better part of a week, slowly coaxing the bird back to life. It was now the morning of his seventh day in the bears' hollow, and Clockwerk shakily held a steaming cup of dark, earthy tasting liquid in his claws. He was seated on a small wooden stump in front of a fire that gently smoldered in an alcove that had been hewn out of the side of the natural rock of the interior of the bears' cave. The room he sat in was of roughly round shape with little odds and ends strung to the walls as means of decoration. It was a homely affair, and it was hard to imagine that just outside of the warm rock walls existed a raging torrent of ice and death. Clock took a sip from his stone cup and grimaced slightly as a flavor not completely unlike dirt and iron washed over his tongue. In bringing the beverage up to his mouth, he noticed his ragged claws, or at least what was left of them, as well as the bloodily scarred points at which they connected to the rest of his leg. He must have made an awful sight, but he did not care so long as he was alive and ticking.

The hollow thought of a cat, a large cat, suddenly crossed through his mind again as it had done several times over the past few days. He still couldn't quite place why he thought such things, and he banished it once again from his mind. He did allow one thought to invade him, though; the thought of a certain family of raccoons.

The Cooper clan and his own had a rivalry that dated back generations, and this expedition to the arctic was a result of it. One of the stupid rodents, the name of which eludes his cold mind, was planning a trip to this unforgiving land in a bid to cement his clan's name in history, but Clock's father, Laark, wanted that honor for himself. One thing led to another, and suddenly the owl had found himself, as well as his father and ten men, aboard a large iron-hulled ship that was on its way to the frosty, unknown lands of the north.

"Blasted animals." The breath that carried the shaky words from his mouth curled into a display of steam over his cup, and then disappeared. He began to laugh.

It was a crooked, wheezing laugh that echoed lazily around the room. The pure hatred behind the disgusting sound seemed to drive out what little light was afforded to the room by the fire and replace it with an icy grip of shadows. The effort of the gesture brought him into a fit of coughing, and he took another labored sip from his cup.

'_You are pathetic,' _he heard the familiar voice of his father say to him from somewhere across the room.

_'You are weak,' _echoed from near the fire, again in his father's voice.

The presence of his father, let alone two of them, seemed to offer no trouble to his mind. The acceptance of such a fact confused him for a moment, but he didn't quite seem to know what he was going to do with this information. Honestly, he didn't care.

"You are well?"

The presence of a very real voice coming from an easily identifiable source pleased him as he turned around to meet the eyes of a large bear that had quietly made his way in. The bear turned his head slightly downward, breaking eye contact with him.

"Yes."

"This is good. My brother has gone to forage what he can from the grips of the ice. Stay and drink. Will be back soon."

'_Simple minded idiot'_ once again chimed in the voice of his father, this time from directly behind him. _'Kill him.'_

Maybe it was his stomach talking, but Clockwerk seriously considered the command. He flexed his talons against the cup that he was holding, and made an unsettling scratching noise against it as he did so. The bear in front of him visibly winced, and then turned to leave.

Clockwerk took another sip of his drink, finishing it.

"Simple minded idiot."

_A/N:_

_Sorry. _


	14. Cat and Owl

Chapter 14 – Cat and Owl

Why did that stupid cat keep flashing into his mind? Clockwerk paced back and forth restlessly across the central chamber, much as he had been doing for the past 2 hours. The bears were long overdue to return, and he was beginning to get… hungry. He shook his head, clearing the edges of his beak of a thin bead of drool as he tried to get his mind back on track.

"Cat…"

Why was this so difficult? For that matter, why should he even care? It was probably just a hallucination brought on by the rather unfortunate series of events he had endured over the last couple of weeks. His mind must still be cold, he reasoned.

The image of the cat flashed into his mind again, a bit clearer this time than the last.

He quickened his pace across the room, ruffling his feathers. There is no way that his mind could be playing this good of a trick on him, oh no. _What is that stupid cat?_

He stopped abruptly, his talons making a short screeching sound against the stone of the floor. He cocked his head to the side, and then closed his eyes as he forced himself to concentrate as hard as he could.

A memory, or perhaps just a dream, began to play back in his head.

Oh God, it was so cold.

Harsh tendrils of icy wind tore at what feathers of his remained as he felt himself being carried by an unknown entity towards an unknown location.

It was cold.

He forced the frost from his eyelids as he tried to open them, only to have them assaulted by the harsh, reflected light of the tundra that surrounded him in all directions. His eyes were instantly dried by the freezing wind, but a sight to his right forced him to keep them open. There, floating alongside him, was a lump of wet fur that ruffled pitifully in the torrent of deadly elements surrounding it.

It was cold. He was cold.

His eyes frosted over, obscuring his vision behind a cloud of white. He blinked as furiously as his tired abilities would let him to try and rid his view of the intruding ice, but it was no use. He tried to move his wings, but found them hopelessly frozen to his side in a mixture of blood and ice.

Oh God, it was so cold.

That had to have been it. That had to have been the cat, he thought. He opened his eyes, but furrowed the feathers on his brow as realization struck him. The bears had carried it into their dwelling alongside him. It must be in here with him.

A burning desire to find it, a desire that he could not even in the slightest begin to explain, washed over him as he set his legs in motion to convey him to the arched stone doorway that marked the exit of the main room. He felt the feathers of his wings brush against the sides of the stone as he walked through it, the cooling sensation it gave him not being entirely unpleasant. He passed by another arch that led to the sleeping rooms, and continued on his way into parts of the cave that he had not yet had the chance or desire to explore. After what felt like several minutes of walking, he began to feel the air around him growing colder. The sparsely placed sconces on the wall, their fire casting odd shadows along the hewn rock sides of the walls, gave off just enough light to make one's way down the passage without issue. Even they, however, seemed cold to his eyes.

Before he had realized it, he found himself in a part of the cave where it opened up into a room about the size of what he had come to know as the main chamber of the bear's home. He looked around the sparsely furnished clearing quickly, but his eyes instantly locked on to one facet of the room in particular.

Off to the side, in one of the corners of the roughly rectangular room, was a stone table with what appeared to be a large mass on top of it being covered in multiple layers of cloth and furs. He slowly walked up to it, the incredibly cold air leaving puffs of his breath behind him in small clouds as he traversed the span. He placed a wing out in front of him and ruffled the top-most layer of fur with his pinions. It was an exotic material, black with hints of grey, the origins of which he did not know. He curled his feathers around the edges of it and pulled it off to the side.

He repeated this process with each layer of the material, littering the floor with them as they were tossed carelessly about. What he eventually uncovered was a still body. The body of a cat.

He looked it over, two black tipped ears sprouted from the tip of a stout face that was connected to the rest of a horribly emaciated body covered in tufts of dark, sandy orange fur. What intrigued him the most, however, were the teeth. 2 pure-white sabers, easily over six inches long apiece, jutted downwards from the mouth of the creature in a slight curve. Whatever this cat had been, it was-

Clockwerk's thought froze in place as he noticed the tail of the creature, a small stub, twitch slightly. For reasons unclear to him, he stepped back a pace.

The cat lying in front of him on the table let out a soft groan that began to slowly build into a low growl that evolved into an ear-splitting screech of a roar that shook the very stone of the room they were in. Its body convulsed on the cool stone, as if all of the pain that it had endured over however long in whichever place it had existed finally came back to it in one fell swoop of torment. Clockwerk took a pace forwards, regaining lost ground, and then placed an extended wing on the midriff of the beast. It turned its head towards him as its eyes shot open. It mumbled an incoherent string of syllables directed at the owl, and then lost consciousness with a groan.

Clockwerk cocked his head slightly to the side, still looking into the closed eyes of the creature in front of him.

"How odd."

_A.N./_

_Short and seemingly incomplete, I know, but I wanted to put something out there so that I didn't fall into another cycle of ungodly long times between updates. No matter how bad the odds may seem, this story is still alive and kicking after almost a year and a half. Like I have said in previous notes, almost the entirety of the story is planned out in a little journal of mine, but putting it into words is ridiculously hard to do for some reason. Wish me luck, guys. Several other in-progress chapters are open in several other tabs. I'm gonna finish this thing if it kills me. _

_-Jake_


	15. The Best Laid Plans

Chapter 15- The Best Laid Plans

"So they met in a cave," asked Sly, settling down into the couch nearest the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

"Yes," replied the bat, lounging deeper into the armchair across from the raccoon.

"In the middle of the arctic," reiterated Bentley, seated in his wheelchair to the right of Luc.

"Yes," answered the bat once more.

"All 'cause of some thing Clockwerk's dad had for Sly's family?" asked Murray, rounding out his question with a scratch of his head.

"That is indeed correct, my friend," concluded Luc. He let out a deep sigh before trying to stand up. It didn't amount to much more than struggling around in his chair for a moment before a worried looking Claire helped him get up and out. Inwardly cursing his old age, he flashed a smile of thanks, and then addressed her in a more direct manner;

"I know it isn't truly in my place to ask," he queried in a raspy voice, "but would you happen to have anything that the lot of us could eat?"

As if on cue, Carmelita's stomach let out a rather impressive sounding growl. Sly started to laugh, but stopped to nurse his arm after the fox none too gently slugged him in the shoulder.

Claire stopped to think for a moment, and then turned on her heel to head towards the small kitchen that was attached to the room they were in. "Give me just a sec to run through what I have."

Luc, now standing, turned to face the rest of the group, an indecipherable expression on his grizzled face. "That is how they met," he stated simply, glancing down at gold watch he kept wrapped around his thumb out of habit, "but we are too short on time for me to continue at the current moment."

Sly shifted slightly in his seat, noting (with much pleasure) how Carmelita moved closer to him as he did so. He placed a hand on top of hers and began to move his thumb back and forth across the top of it, a smile playing at the corner of his lips as he felt a small, cool lump on one of her fingers. It didn't go unnoticed to the bat in front of him.

Deciding to keep his observations to himself, knowing that Sly would tell the others when he saw fit, Luc took a step forward. He exhaled softly as he drew a small sheet of aged, slightly torn paper from beneath his wing and placed it on the over-polished oak coffee table that the others surrounded. "This is a piece of the journal that I was able to take from Ambroise before I took my leave, the one that I presented to you all earlier that contains what appears to be the arctic circle," he said, indicating the fragment of a map in front of him. "Unfortunately for us, however-"

Sly finished his sentence for him. "-It's only a part of it."

The aging bat nodded once, and then directed his gaze at Aero; "Would you care to finish our friend's observation?"

Aero gratefully obliged. "We can't find Annette's vault with only a part of the map," he said, stepping forwards as he knelt down to get a better look at the page. "But that also holds true for Amby." He gently lifted the yellowed document, making an effort to put as little pressure on it as possible. Turning it over in his hands, he examined the lower left-hand corner and the signature that it held. "Luc and I were able to do a bit of research into the locations indicated on the part of the map that we have, and made a few interesting discoveries along the way," he said, not once breaking his gaze from the flowing handwriting in the corner. He set the paper back down onto the table and indicated a series of circles drawn on to the paper in seemingly random locations. "Luc?"

"Thank you, monsieur Christophe," the bat continued. He gently rubbed at his still aching side, and then knelt down to where Aero had been. "We are not entirely certain we would be able to locate it even with the full map in our possession." He pointed a claw at the top-most circle drawn on the map. "This is where Clockwerk landed when his ship froze in place." He swiped from where he was indicating to a point a little lower down, to another circle. "This is where the Vikings turned around." Sliding his claw even further down, he tapped the center of the last circle. "And this is where the Greek explorer Pytheas turned back. All three points of interest land where the important voyage to the arctic ended."

Bentley rolled his wheelchair slightly forward, angling it towards the kneeling bat. "That's all well and good, but how is any of this important?" Penelope padded over behind him and put her hand on the back of his chair.

Aero helped Luc back into a standing position, and then turned to face the turtle. "We aren't entirely certain," the cheetah truthfully said with a shrug. "What struck us is that she would choose to record these events in her journal at all."

"We assume," added Luc, playing off of his partner's last thought, "that she considered all of these locations as potential sites for her vault. The issue, however, is discovering which, if any, of these indicates the final placement."

"And without the second half of the map," continued Aero, "we won't be able to know if any more locations were-" He cut his words off short and blinked comically, unable to finish his sentence as the smell of bacon found its way to his nose.

All in attendance turned to face the kitchen. Clearly visible from across the bar, Claire was tending to a pan of bacon that sizzled happily over the stovetop, its enticing aroma filling all corners of the room that they were in. Noticing a lull in conversation, she looked up from her post only to be met with seven hungry stares. She looked around nervously, coughed once, and then directed her focus back on to the skillet.

* * *

><p>A short number of minutes later, a simple breakfast was served consisting of several strips of bacon and a slice of bread apiece. Claire looked over all of them as the sound of silverware against china clicked and clacked gently throughout the room, thankful that they were able to eat what meager offerings she had. Normally, she wouldn't be caught dead without a fully stocked pantry and fridge that could offer up any number of dishes on a whim, but thanks to recently being let go from her job as a clerk at the local hotel, funds have been a little short. She was torn as to what to do; to go with her 'relative' (she still didn't fully believe him, though what reason would he have to lie to her?) off on some crazy adventure, or stay behind and risk drawing the attention of some apparently very unsavory individuals. Her troubled mind must have shown through, as the one she had come to know as 'Luc' looked at her quizzically.<p>

"Are you doing okay, my girl?" inquired the bat, gesturing to the untouched plate in front of her.

She shook her head, clearing it of any stray thoughts, and then smiled unconvincingly. "Yeah," she replied, shyly pushing her untouched plate towards a very grateful Aero, "just… confused."

"You know just about as much as the rest of us," offered Sly around a mouthful of food.

"I know. It's just that… Well… That's not a lot,"

Sly sighed softly, understanding the truth in her statement. He swallowed and then opened his mouth to speak, but slowly closed it, unable to find any words that would comfort the female raccoon sitting across from. Luckily for him, Carmelita noticed the potentially awkward pause in conversation and jumped in to take his place.

"No, it's not," she said, drawing the attention of both raccoons. "Dios…" she rubbed her temples, looking down. "From what we do know," she flicked her eyes over to Luc, her hands still on her head, "or, from what we have been told, this is big. Everything that has even remotely involved that demon of a bird Clockwerk has nearly ended the world," she said, recounting her various run-ins with the evil entity.

"Clockwerk had kept himself alive by hating the Cooper family," continued Aero in a cool voice, "and now, we are dealing with someone who has taken it a step further by keeping himself alive by hating Clockwerk."

Sly sputtered on his drink and then looked over at the cheetah. "He hates Clockwerk? What?" He had figured that since Clockwerk was the one that created him, he would have some sort of sick bond with the bird.

"Long story condensed considerably in the interest of time; yes," finished Luc, pushing his now empty plate forwards. "I will finish my earlier story at a later date, have you no worry."

Sly once again found himself at a loss for words, noting with displeasure that this has been happening more and more often.

Claire looked down towards the table. "I guess I don't have much of a choice, then," she said to no one in particular. "I guess none of us do."

"Unfortunately not, dearest," Aero said somberly. "We either take the initiative and distance ourselves from him, or wait around until he finds us."

Luc looked over to him and tapped discreetly at his watch.

"Now, however," the cheetah continued, both standing up and pushing in his chair in one fluid motion, "I must take my leave. If I'm gone much longer, Amby's slithery little pet, Khal, will start to notice that something's up." Exiting the dining room, he made his way over to the window on the far side of the living room. Undoing the latch at the bottom, he lifted it up and twisted around to face the others. Flashing them all a quick smile, he turned back around and used an arm to vault himself silently over.

Murray spoke up for the first time since finishing his plate, "What is it with you Numbers guys and jumping out of things?"

Luc shrugged. "Moving on from that, however, we are still left with the issue of Roush knowing exactly where we are as well as none of us knowing where the vault of one Anette Cooper resides." Luc stood up and began walking around the table to collect the plates from in front of all at the table. Stacking them neatly, he deposited them on the counter next to the sink. "Short of asking her ourselves," he said, continuing his previous thought, "I doubt we will ever be able to know exactly where it is. Now, this is fine with me, however…" he trailed off, looking over to Claire.

She took his hint, finding it slightly off-putting to look into his milky-white eyes. "But this Ambroise guy," she ventured, "Won't stop 'destroying the world' until he finds it?"

Luc winked at her, "Precisely." He tucked his wings neatly at his side, and began to walk back and forth across the dining room. "The way I see things," he said, turning on his heel to begin pacing in the other direction, "we are presented with a number of choices on how to handle the current situation."

"I guess walking up to Ambroise's front door and politely asking him to stop is out of the question?" Sly quipped.

Luc chuckled dryly, "I'm afraid so."

Carmelita decided to speak up next. "Finding the vault would certainly make things easier, but for the sake of continuing to plan, let's consider it an impossibility for now." She looked up, finding several sets of eyes gazing at her expectantly. "Wouldn't it make better sense to try and weaken Ambroise before we tried to stop him?"

Bentley looked up at her, a look of understanding in his eye. "I think I know what you're trying to get at. If I may, Inspector?" he asked, wishing to elaborate on her thought. She nodded. "If we could find some way to take out the other Numbers one by one, we could do some serious damage."

The former Number furrowed his brow, surprised that a solution as simple as what the fox and turtle in front of him had suggested had eluded him. "As it happens," he said, slightly disappointed in himself. "Four is operating out of London as of speaking."

Sly clapped his hands together, causing Claire to jump slightly in her seat. "Then it's settled, right? We go after… _whatever_ their name is in London."

Luc tucked his wings back into his sides. "I do believe we have ourselves a plan, ladies and gentlemen," he said happily. "Claire, I am afraid that I must ask something of you again."

The female raccoon, shifting slightly in her chair, turned to look at him. "I'm willing to help."

"Excellent, my girl," he continued. He had hoped that Claire would be easy to bring onto their cause. "Would you happen to have a vehicle that we all may use?"

She looked around, grinning slightly. "Even if I were to say no, couldn't the famous Cooper gang just take it?" she challenged.

Now it was Sly's turn to start smiling. "I dunno, cars can be a little tricky."

"I take it that we are free to take full use of any and all resources, then?" asked Luc, stopping any back and forth banter before it could begin. He sighed; they just simply didn't have the time.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," she said, noting the sense of impatience in his voice. Luc's features softened considerably at hearing this.

The bat was going to speak once more, to voice his happiness at how easy it was to bring Claire on to their side, but was silenced by Sly as he took over the conversation. "Let's get it together then, guys," he said, standing up. "Let's get what we need for the road and then get out of here."

Penelope smiled broadly. "To London!"


	16. Coming to Grips

Chapter 16- Coming to Grips

Yet another pair of weeks had passed since Clockwerk had found the wretched cat, and, much to the continued frustration of the bird, no progress was being made into deciphering _anything_ about the creature. Whatever his ordeal may have been, it had left him with a badly damaged left arm that had large portions of muscle seemingly ripped from it, leaving only skin to cover the bone. Apart from this, as well as a few deep scars across his chest and a clearly malnourished body, the creature seemed sound enough. Hell, at this point though, Clockwerk was beginning to believe him deaf.

'_Or maybe just a blasted idiot' _he thought.

Wearing a series of pronounced scratches into the smooth stone floor of the main room with his constant pacing, he ruffled his feathers in an exasperated manner and then redirected his path towards what he had come to know as the kitchen. A swatch of fresh bear fur was strung from the ceiling that reached down to the floor, and acted as a barrier against the main room. Pushing it to the side with a wing, he entered.

A rectangular patch had been hewn out of the rock wall just inside and to the right to form a small platform that could be used to prepare what little food was available. This, alongside a small basin for storing water and another alcove that held a few smoldering coals in a rough approximation of an oven, made up the entirety of the small room.

The owl paused and let the curtain fall back into place behind him, silently gliding along the feathers on his back. Directing his eyes to the right, he let his attention descend towards the shelf in the rock, as well as what was lying upon it. He let out a disgruntled sigh as he rolled his eyes across the body of the sleeping creature. It had been two weeks, two _blasted_ weeks, and he had yet to coax a single word from the pathetic animal. It always acknowledged him when he spoke, but with nothing more than a flick of its dark eyes in his general direction. This simple act of willing disregard infuriated him more than simple silence ever could, but, despite Clocks ever-growing displeasure, it did prove that there was a mind behind the creature; a mind that understood him.

If there was one thing that his father had taught him about life, it was that fear could break even the most tempered of minds, and if a mind could understand, it could understand fear.

'_You have claws for a reason, fool,' _came the voice of his father from no less than six different locations at once. Not one to disregard sound advice, despite it coming from questionable sources, the bird tread carefully forward in a bid to make sure the animal did not awaken, and then lifted a set of his still bloody talons from the ground. He carefully brushed against the neck of the creature with the back of one of his devices, and then closed his grasp around the throat of the nameless creature. He didn't intend to kill it, but what the cat didn't know wouldn't hurt it.

Or perhaps it would. Could be fun, after all.

Its eyes sprang open the instant that Clockwerk clamped down on its fragile throat. He struggled against the oppressive claws as he lifted a badly damaged arm to try and rid his neck of them. Pawing madly at the cruel objects, but unable to rise up due to the pressure being exerted down on him, he darted his eyes upwards, looking directly into those of the owl for the first time since he had been found in the deeper parts of the caves.

What Clockwerk saw pleased him. To look into the eyes of someone who expected death was to look into their very soul, and this cat believed himself to be very much dead. The owl moved his head closer to the gasping presence in front of him, sadistically delighting as he watched it try to escape his gaze. He parted his beak to speak, but stopped as he saw the slowly draining specimen before him try to form words. Clockwerk loosened his grip slightly and allowed the cat to steal a sharp breath from the smoky air of the kitchen. Despite the pleasure of knowing that the cat was finally going to speak, he spoke first so as to leave no question of who the dominant force in the room currently was.

"It is because of me that you are alive," he began.

"Lii non drevon na," replied the animal. Clockwerk increased the pressure slightly. "I do not… fear you," hissed the cat, much the other's surprise.

Clockwerk cocked his head to the side, keeping his expression level in an attempt to hide his conflicting feelings. Despite the unsettling blockage that had now presented itself-

'_idiot.'_

-and despite the dozen or so voices of his father, he decided to make the most of the situation. Still applying a discomforting amount of pressure to the throat of the rudely awoken presence in front of him, he leaned in even more, closing the distance between their two faces until they were separated by mere inches. He could feel the labored breaths of the cat beneath him increase in frequency as he drew near. This was a good sign.

"You should."

The cat's eyes narrowed slightly as they tried to block out the hypnotic stare of the bird that held his life in its claws. "_Fale Ignii_." As soon as he said this, the grip on his neck completely shut off his air supply once again.

Clockwerk's voice dripped with malice. "I'm sorry?" He didn't understand what language was being used, but the delivery of the phrase told him that it couldn't have been pleasant.

The suffocating creature let out a whimpering gurgle, still desperately trying to clear his throat. Perhaps telling the homicidal owl in front of him to 'go to Hell' was beyond his better judgment.

"You should be afraid of me." Clock's voice dipped into a growl as he voiced the word 'afraid'. He relinquished his grip somewhat to where the cat could breathe freely, but not lift his head. "What are you called."

"Croo?" The other's voice was raspy, and his labored breathing was making it difficult to speak.

Clockwerk cocked his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. "You are called Crew?"

"Chi spiik yen Ambrik."

"For your sake, I suggest you begin to use words that have meaning, Crew."

The cat coughed a couple of times, his windpipe still tight. "They… I am called Ambrik."

Clockwerk removed his grip from the other's throat entirely, and took a step backwards. "There now, that wasn't too difficult."

Ambrik let out a string of coughs, the act of forming words was now physically painful for him.

The owl turned around sharply and began to head for the exit of the kitchen, leaving Ambrik to recover and to… think. He dipped his voice back down to a low growl as he pushed aside the grisly barrier between the rooms. "You now twice owe me your life."

He was answered with another bout of coughing.

…

Clockwerk had long since lost track of anything that even remotely resembled time. He could finally feel the shackles of ice that had trapped his mind in place beginning to break free as he recovered more and more physically with each passing day. Or perhaps week. Or year. He hadn't been stricken with any particular desire to go outside, and the cave he called refuge itself didn't have any windows. He ate when he hungered, drank when he was thirsty, and took care of other deeds when the need arose. Despite the fact that the creature sharing the residence with him now had a fairly good reason to want him to stop breathing, he slept peacefully. If he were to be murdered in his sleep, then so be it. All it would do is afford him quick passage away from this icy prison that was with each passing… moment… beginning to look like it was going to become his inevitable tomb. He tried to keep his mind active by formulating far-off schemes to escape and trudge back to his home knowing full well that none of them had an icicles chance in hell of working, but since this particular hell that he had found himself in was, in fact, icy, he allowed them passage through his thoughts.

He had begun his daily (or perhaps weekly) ritual of pacing a groove into the path of stone in front of the fireplace in the main room. Without any new hare-brained schemes to mull over, he found himself the hostage of rage. There was no use in being this angry at what was in and of itself a completely helpless situation, but for some reason, it felt… _right._ If it weren't for his damned father leading himself out on this fool's errand to the pole, he would be at home right now in his rightful place. He could be eating a hot meal and absolutely flooding himself with warm wine to try and drown out the insignificant problems of the world as it passed ignorantly around him. He was only one person, right? No sense trying to get caught up in the workings of a world that doesn't care about you. If you were to try and make a difference, be it with noble intentions or bad, you would end up like-

_The Coopers, you idiot._

-the Cooper family. The stupid raccoons that thought it was their calling in life to make ignoring the world he found himself in even more difficult than it already was. They always went around stealing this that and the other from his family's stores.

_It is because of them that you are here._

If it hadn't been for that stupid family, he wouldn't be here.

_It is because of them that you are dying._

If it hadn't been for them, he would be thriving in his sanctuary.

_It is because of them that I am already dead._

It was because of them that his father was dead. They were the ones that pressured him out onto this expedition. They probably never truly intended to go to the pole. Their twisted view of the world, convoluted by generations of thinking they were better than they actually were, must have convinced them that this was an easy way to get rid of the _nasty _family of owls that plaguedthe entire continent of do-gooders that they had decided needed their protection.

They must have snuck into the cave that he and his father had retreated to. They must have poisoned him and killed his father. Yes, he remembered it. They chopped him into little bits and forced him to eat his family. They killed both of them.

It was because of them. All of this was because of them. It all had to have been because of them.

A sharp noise from behind him drew him out of the recesses of his mind and back to, more or less, reality.

"Lii fale strot."

The owl's eyes seemed to glow with a fire all their own as he turned to face his new 'friend'. "Meaningless words," he answered dryly, a crooked smile playing on his features. This cat probably hated the Coopers as much as he did. They must have-

"I… we need to leave here," voiced Ambrik, sounding slightly timid. He was in no physical condition to fight his captor that had already proven himself capable of taking life.

"I agree."

Ambrik took a deep breath. This owl was clearly crazy, but he had no other choice but to work with it if he wanted to escape _wherever _he was now. "Do you know how we might... be able to?"

"It involves a lot of walking, and a lot of cold."


	17. TMT - Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 17 - "Tailor-Made Terror" - Calm Before the Storm

...

"Sly?" cooed Carmelita innocently, currently wedged against the window of the small car.

"Yes?"

"If you don't stop touching me _there_, I'm going to rip your arm off."

To say that the car ride from Claire's apartment in Liverpool to London was cramped would be a gross understatement. Without any other options for transportation presenting themselves, as Murray's van was most likely in an impound lot back in Paris, the newest unofficial member of the Cooper Gang offered to let them use her Peugeot 206. The 206, in its own, is seen by most as a wonderful little 4-seater for taking little forays into town. Its current use, however, saw it ferrying 7 passengers of varying sizes, as well as a large collection of London maps and building schematics that Bentley had seemingly pulled from nowhere, halfway across the country. The first leg of the trip started off fairly uneventfully, with Luc giving them all another part of the story involving Clockwerk and Ambroise, but the situation quickly devolved from there. Murray was currently sitting shotgun as Claire drove, trying their best to ignore the banter that had been going on between Sly and Carmelita for almost the entire trip. While Carmelita had the seat nearest the window on the left side of the vehicle, Luc occupied the space nearest the right and had managed to lull himself into an almost meditative trance. Bentley, sitting next to the oldest of the gang, had Penelope sitting in his lap so that they could allow Sly and Carmelita to sit next to each other. Over the course of the trip, however, the turtle had begun to wonder if letting them be so close was such a good idea.

"Touching you where?!" Sly responded defensively, sounding almost hurt. "I haven't moved in the last half hour!"

Carmelita made to point out that he had been slowly working his arm towards her, but she made the mistake of looking him directly in the eyes. _'Darn those eyes of his. If he wasn't ...'_

"I mean, if you _want_, I'd be happy to oblige..." he quipped with a quick wiggle of his eyebrows. He began to realize that this may have been the incorrect way to follow up his last sentence as he watched the fox next to him slowly begin to break down into a fit of hysterics.

Penelope clapped her hands over her ears. "Make it stop!"

Luc sighed quietly to himself, scrunching his eyes closed just a little bit tighter. Great age normally brings along with it a great sense of patience, but he had never experienced anything quite as trying as the situation he found himself in right now. This was going to be a long trip.

...

The next two and a half hours passed by much the same as the rest, but the gang began to gradually quiet down as they realized that they were getting closer and closer to their destination, as well as the first time that they were going on the offensive against the infamous Numbers that they had only briefly encountered in the past.

Sly rested his left hand on Carmelita's thigh, his fingers beginning to drum nervously of their own accord. He shot her an apologetic look as she put her hand on top of his. Letting her wrap her fingers around his in a form of mutual apology, he turned his head to face Bentley, who was regarding the headrest in front of him with more unblinking attention than should be deserved. "Hey, Bent?"

Bentley started slightly, his concentration broken as his friend tapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah, Sly?"

"We do have a plan going into this thing, right?"

The turtle shifted himself slightly in his seat, holding on to the mouse sitting in his lap with one arm so as to not accidentally unbalance her. "We, uhh..."

"Good to hear."

"Quiet, Sly." The turtle adjusted his spectacles with his free hand. "First things first, we need to find some place to coop up. This is going to take more than just one day."

"Any idea where to start? We got pretty lucky in the past-"

"Like that cave outside of Rajan's," Murray added from his spot up front.

"Yeah, so... Ideas?"

Bentley furrowed his brow together. "Nope."

Sly smiled and let out a loud sigh. "Sis?"

The raccoon driving the car let out a sigh that rivaled his. "I really don't know how I feel about being called that."

If there was one thing that Sly liked to do almost as much as thieving , it was to find people's buttons and push them relentlessly until they were on the brink of insanity. This time, however, much to the silent surprise of everyone in the van, he did the unthinkable:

"Sorry, I'll... hold off on that. I was gonna ask; do you know anywhere we could hide out? Abandoned buildings, or anything like that, near the center of the city?"

_So I'm his sister now, huh? Let's see... He probably doesn't keep in contact with his parents anymore, so we have that in common. We're both raccoons. Technically unemployed... _

Looking into the rear-view mirror, she was pulled out of her thoughts as she caught an inquisitive glance from her questioner. "Well, uhh... what would work as a...?"

"Safe house."

"...Yeah. What would be a good one of those?"

Sly looked around at the rest of the gang, pulling himself forward in his seat. "Well, anything, really. We've used caves, coffee shops, apartments, batteries; you name it. Just any old thing that nobody would walk into if they were just passing by."

Claire paused in thought, racking her- '_batteries?' -_mind for anything that would fit the bill from her many forays into the city. "Well... There's an old tea shop about two kilometers from Westminster, would that work?"

"I believe it would, Miss Cooper," answered Bentley, pulling a more recent map from the cluster he had wedged between the seat cushions. "Do you remember the name of it"?

"I doubt it would be on any maps," she continued, hearing papers being shuffled around behind her. "It's been vacant for ages, since before I was born even."

"Perfect!"

...

"It's beautiful!"

Sly was the first to exit the car, glancing quickly around before he ducked into the alley that bordered one side of the red and brown brick building that had obviously seen better days. Launching himself quickly on top of a dumpster, he unlatched an upper window and pulled himself inside.

Bentley was the next to leave the confines of the Peugeot, clicking his wheelchair into place before lowering himself down. Helping Penelope out next, Luc and Carmelita practically spilled from the opposite door as the pressure keeping them inside was finally lifted.

"Gaaaaaaahhdamnit these old bones of mine..." A cloud of steam followed his words as his breath met the cold London air.

Carmelita offered a hand to the aging bat, which was graciously accepted as he righted himself. He turned to pull his briefcase from still within the car, but paused.

"...How did he...?" Tucked between the cushions of the rear seats was Sly's cane, it's tip just visibly sticking out. Luc sighed, he had now idea how the raccoon had managed to fit it in there, but it really didn't matter at this point. Pulling it from its nest, he tucked it beneath a wing and then began to make his way towards the entrance. Ascending the quick two steps up to the door, he ran a wing over the dusty window before peering in. Spotting the silhouette of a raccoon inside, he let out a series of quick taps on the door to draw it's attention, which was only answered with a quick wave as the dark figure darted into one of the back rooms. Luc sighed and turned away from the door towards the group that had gathered behind him.

"It seems as though Cooper has gotten himself distracted."

Bentley's hand connected with his face. "He does this occasionally. Just... wait, and he'll unlock the door in a minute. Probably."

Claire turned to him. "...Probably?"

Bentley merely waved her away.

...

Sly alighted softly on the other side of the window he had let himself in with, dropping into an instinctive crouch as he looked through the dust his impromptu door had unsettled. Seeing nothing that could be perceived as a threat, and expecting nothing of the sort, he continued past the sink and stall- _'Guess I'm in the bathroom.' _-and out the door into the main room of the old shop.

Letting his eyes adjust to the darkness of the vacant space, he ran his eyes from one end of the room to the other: There was what appeared to be a large copper espresso machine on the counter that ran the length of the wall opposite the main entrance. There were two or three tables dotting the main lobby, with a number of chairs placed upon them in storage, and a few dusty frames containing unrecognizable works of art dotted the walls of the otherwise unremarkable room. A thick layer of dust seemed to be almost painted onto everything within sight. Bentley's allergies were going to have an absolute field day in here.

Hearing a knock from the door, he turned to walk towards it when something caught his eye from the opposite room. Waving briefly in the direction of the knock, he continued forwards. Peeking his head through the open door and glancing quickly around, he was able to find the object in question; a massive, dull black safe that looked to be from the turn of the century. Sly let out a long, low whistle as he walked up to it. Running his fingers along the edges of the object, his mind began to drift towards the faraway islands of Sir Raleigh.

As much as he wanted to crack right into it and relive some of his 'glory' days, another series of knocks, followed by a few choice threats from his recently betrothed, drew him out of his thoughts and back towards the door. A few quick flicks of his wrist undid the aging lock without issue, and the rest of his gang quickly stepped inside.

Bentley promptly burst into a fit of uncontrollable sneezing.

...

After the car had been stashed in the alleyway where Sly had made his entrance, the remaining bags and maps were brought in and tucked behind the counter until a better place for them could be found. Sly had hoisted himself into the rafters, lounging against a crossbeam as he busied himself with polishing the tip of his cane while he let the more 'tactically minded' sort out what they were to do next. He really did love moments like these. The 'calm before the storm', being all together in the same room one last time before they were split up in the field, each hoping that the others were doing better than they were. He found it odd how Bentley changed when he was giving a presentation; the normally soft-spoken turtle really seemed to come out of his shell, shooting down troublesome suggestions and enacting his own as he tried to reach the end as efficiently as possible, thumbing through papers and annotating slides quickly and accurately. All eyes were focused on the projected diagrams and maps.

In direct contrast to Bentley, Carmelita's normally loud and commanding demeanor was seemingly forgotten as she kept herself quiet, eyes riveted and ears perked. He had never seen this side of her so closely before, her fiery temper normally overpowering any sense of subtlety she may possess.

"Sly, did you get all that?"

The raccoon shook his head quickly, clearing his mind as he looked down to see six pairs of eyes all locked on him. He hadn't been paying a lick of attention, but that had never seemed to hinder him before. "A quick recap right before we head out and I'll be good to go."

Bentley gave a huff, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Alright, then. Sly, go get ready to head out and do some reconnaissance. We've never operated here before, so we'll be pretty much blind until you do a bit of snooping."

Sly nodded, leaping across the rafters and into the opposite room. As the dust settled, Bentley turned back to face the rest of the gang. "Luc, you're the only one with any real information on our target here. What can you tell us?"

Luc reclined in his seat, his legs crossed and eyes closed as he mulled over all that had been said. "Celine has had a number of covers over the years, her current, if memory serves, is that of a fashionista in the eastern side of the city."

Claire looked over at him, a puzzled expression covering her features. "I'm sorry, but, what? Why would the 'Numbers' need that?"

Luc smiled through his closed eyes. "Think about it, my dear. All of the wealthy in this part of the world, when they have everything, what is something that they can never seem to get enough of?"

The female raccoon eyed him oddly. "Clothes?"

Luc opened his eyes and winked at her. "There is a reason why the lions gather near the watering holes."

Bentley gathered his papers, scribbling a few hasty notes across the pages. "Do you know exactly where? The quicker we get onto this, the easier it will be for all of us."

"Don't fool yourself into thinking this will be an easy venture, Bentley," continued the bat, closing his eyes again as he reclined. "Celine plays the part of damage control, controlling and twisting rumors and making those that may prove to be troublesome 'disappear' with little fuss. She is dangerous."

The turtle swallowed nervously, continuing to press onwards. "R-Regardless, we have to move if we want to do this."

"I've dealt with creeps like this in the past," added Carmelita as she stood up. "We're all in this together, greeny. We'll be able to handle it."

Bentley cleared his throat before continuing on, attempting to brush off the unusual nickname, "Well, next order of business is a bit more... personal." Everyone turned to look at him. "Y-Yes, well, seeing as how we have three new members to the gang now, I felt like it would be best to make it official, so to speak." He reached into a storage compartment beneath his wheelchair and pulled out three small electronic devices. "These," he gestured towards them as he placed the objects on the table, "are binocucoms. Think 'cell-phone' but with incredibly high level encryption, low latency communication, and multifunction optical sensors." He picked one of them up back off the table and pressed a button on the side, which made it fold out into a more rectangular shape. "They started as a little side-project of mine a long time ago, and have since proven to be invaluable in the field.

Carmelita picked up the one closest to her, flipping it open as she brought it up to her eyes. A bright orange overlay greeted her vision as a field of indecipherable numbers flashed quickly in the lower right of the screen, forming a stylized fox head as they slowed. Various bits of information presented themselves on the display as she looked around the room; chemical compositions of objects, air purity, and biometric data about herself as well as those around her. The number indicating Bentley's heart rate quickened as she panned over him.

"It originally only functioned as a form of communication," he continued, "but Penelope and I discovered ways to miniaturize a good number of helpful instruments that now enable it as a fully-fledged reconnaissance device." The remaining two members of the gang picked up theirs, turning them over in their hands. Claire looked completely unsure of herself as she gingerly inspected it, not wanting to damage what was sure to be a very expensive piece of equipment. Bentley, noticing this, decided to use her device for the next portion of his demonstration. Taking hers back from her, he slammed it repeatedly into the table amongst shouts of protest.

"Hey!"

"Don't worry," he flicked it open, handing it back to her. "All internal components have been completely immobilized, and the finish is anodized titanium. Having Sly around has really made build quality an, ahem, top priority."

Choosing this moment to make his return entrance, Sly walked back into the main room, now wearing his usual blue shirt and beggar's cap instead of the disguise he had been given. "So are we going to do this or what? We don't need to take a year planning this."


	18. TMT - Recon

Chapter 18 - "Tailor-Made Terror" - Recon

Sly sat perched high upon the edge of a building, the moonlight filtering through the lens of his binocucom as he surveyed the desolate streets below him. Dialing in the focus to rest on an unassuming shop across the path, he snapped a quick picture of the storefront before stowing his device.

A large black facade ran the length of the front of the store, the name 'Vakaruni' displayed proudly across it in flowing, back-lit script.

"Not exactly hiding, are we..." The raccoon lowered his cane, tightening his grip around it as the chilling air stiffened his fingers. Hooking the tip of it around a drainage spout with a metallic _clink_, he swung down and alighted on the uppermost platform of a rusting fire escape, the metal groaning softly as it settled beneath his weight. Pulling out his binocucom once more, he flipped open the display and brought it towards his vision.

Bentley's portrait appeared in the lower left corner of the display, a blurred computer screen reflected dimly in his glasses. "Good work, Sly... As far as first impressions are concerned, it looks just like any other shop in the city."

A flash of static appeared where Bentley had been, making way for the hazy outline of Luc. "A facade, you can be sure of it. She has been outfitting the lower levels of the structure to act as a central command for her surveillance operation. With what I have heard, she has quite the operation stemming from this location."

Bentley reappeared. "He's right, Sly. I've been running a few scans of the surrounding area since we arrived," there was a short span of intense typing heard across the communicator, "Even though most of my gear was left behind, I'm still picking up a _ridiculously_ large electromagnetic presence emanating from just below the main entrance of that shop. As you've probably guessed, we need you to find a way inside so we can find out what exactly we're up against here."

"Is that all?" Sly replied sarcastically, already in the process of folding the screen away.

"Be careful! We don't-" flipping down the screen and placing it out of his way, he hopped onto the railing of the fire escape and launched himself towards an electrical line that spanned the distance between the two sides of the road. Running effortlessly across the thin wire, he crouched against the back of the 'Vakaruni' sign as he gathered his wits about him.

Of all the parts of a heist, this had always been by and far his favorite. The skill that it involved to find his way into impregnable locations, placing himself sometimes only feet from less-than-desirable individuals for nothing but the sake of preparation... Oh how he loved the simplicity of it all; to get in, get through, and get out. Alone against the elements with nothing but his own skill standing between him and certain failure, this was what had been missing from his life.

Was it all worth it?

The thought stopped him in his tracks. His eyes, no longer searching for an entrance, now found themselves darting back and forth in uncertainty. Was it all worth it? Things had been so calm only a few short days ago; he and his friends were safe and well enough off to last the rest of their lives in relative seclusion, but now... They were back in the field, back where he knew they all belonged, but that calm was torn away. These 'Numbers' were nothing like the Klaww gang or Furious Five. The latter had killed his family, but how many innocents had these monsters gone through trying to find something that might not even exist? This wasn't Clockwerk, he knew they could defeat Clockwerk, but Ambroise... Even thinking the name sent a shiver down his spine. This had to be it, he decided, his grip tightening around his cane and a quick breath sending a plume of steam flitting about him. If- '_No, no thinking like that.'_ -When they all finally finished this and got rid of the tiger, he was going to disband the gang.

He huffed at his realization; it wasn't worth it any more to be up against this much danger. He had a life, he had his friends, he had a family, and most importantly, he had Carmelita.

Back to the present, however, he refocused his eyes on his immediate surroundings. There would be no going back to the past if he didn't put his all into the present. He'd bring it up with the gang later, he decided. Catching a shimmer of metal out of the corner of his eye, he strode cautiously to the side, taking great care to remain in the shadows, and used the tip of his cane to spin open the bolts holding the ventilation grate in place. A burst of warm air struck him as the cover lilted to the side, a sharp contrast to biting cold he had been wrapped in since leaving the safe house. Ducking quickly into the narrow passageway, he stowed his cane and began to crawl forwards into the darkening interior.

The winding shaft seemed to trail on and down for far longer than it should have, giving Sly ample time to retreat back into his thoughts. So none of this was worth it, was it? Maybe that wasn't quite the right way to put it. The adventure wasn't worth the danger, but protecting others was worth everything, and if protecting others meant crawling headfirst down a dark hole into parts unknown, then so be it. If protecting others meant a calm lifestyle in the shadows, however, just as well. All he knew, however, was the now. He had to keep pressing forwards.

The tunnel finally played itself out at another grating. Pulling himself close to it, his body, conditioned through an entire life of subtlety, didn't make a sound as he pulled out his binocucom and looked around the small interior room he was presented with. Finding no trace of guards immediately around, he pushed the grating to the side and lowered himself to the floor.

Taking a few cursory looks around his new surroundings, Sly found himself in a guardroom of sorts; there was a small CCTV panel on the wall, the screens displaying various scenes of seemingly normal locations around the city. A large window covered the majority of the leftmost wall, which quickly drew his attention. Crouching down as he approached it, he peeked over the edge and flipped open his binocucom once again.

The room beyond the glass was absolutely _filled_ with surveillance equipment. Computer monitors with digitized building plans littered the walls, and large metallic machines with innumerable wires and connections sprouting from them covered the floor. A dozen or so workers of various races in white coats paced idly between the machines, checking displays and marking readings as they went about unknown tasks. One device in particular, however, garnered the majority of Sly's attention. Standing against the far wall, with ventilation tubes trailing in every which direction, was what appeared to be a massive archway. Quickly pulling his binocucom up, he snapped a quick picture of it before the outer ring began to illuminate. Squinting his eyes against the onslaught of light, several of the workers nearest the machine began to move quickly away from it as it roared to life. Without warning, several of the tubes connected to the device burst free of their holdings and vented steam into the room, triggering several warning lights as sirens began to make themselves audible over the deafening growl of the arch.

As quickly as it began, however, the fog began to clear and the frantically running workers began to slow as they got the sirens and warnings under control.

"I told you IDIOTS to tighten the vents!"

Sly turned quickly to face his binocucom at the new voice that had arisen out of the fray. Standing in a doorway, just to the left of the still-sputtering arch, was a ferret-like woman dressed in a white coat much like those she commanded, though hers was decidedly more flattering. Running her slender fingers through her hair, she let out a long sigh as she visibly relaxed her shoulders.

She muttered something to herself under her breath, but Sly couldn't quite make it out from the other side of the glass.

She began to curl her lips upwards in a smile, locking her gaze on one of the workers who busied himself at a console near her.

"Conwell~..."

The unfortunate focus of her attention folded his ears flat against his skull, trying to make himself as small as possible, a difficult task considering his size.

"Y- Yes, Celine?"

The mink began to close the distance between them, sauntering casually over. She took a clipboard into her hand from atop an adjacent station as she drew closer, flipping idly through the pages before settling on one with a twitch of her brow.

Taking it into both hands with a flex of her fingers, she quickly drew back and struck the unfortunate soul a solid blow to the head, splintering the board and sending a number of sheets off in all directions. The creature hit the floor with a thud, only to be lifted bodily up by his collar and drawn within inches of the face of his assailant. Reaching a hand blindly behind her, Celine allowed one of the falling papers to fall into her grasp. Whipping it around, she jammed it before the face of her victim.

"42-A!" she growled, reading off the specifications detailed upon the sheet between them. She began to shake both objects in her grasp fiercely, her voice rising in pitch. "I said to monitor intersection 42-A and make sure that the dilation did not rise above the values that are CLEARLY STATED RIGHT HERE."

Her ears perked upwards and swiveled themselves in Sly's direction. Instinctively ducking below the cover of the windowsill, he only just managed to avoid being spotted as she roved her eyes across the vacant security room.

"Why are you even out here!" She threw both him and the now crumpled sheet of paper harshly towards Sly's location. "Get back to your post in over-watch," she continued, smoothing down the ruffled fur along her neck and arms as she began to pace back to where she made her entrance, smoothing her disheveled appearance once more, "I have to ready myself for the customers. We do have a business to run, yes?" She took yet another deep breath, closing her eyes. "If you buffoons will get things in order, we'll all be set for an early retirement."

Sly folded down his binocucom after snapping a quick few pictures of the interior of the security room and tucked it away. Not wanting to stay and chat with the poor soul limping his way towards this supposedly-empty room, he jumped effortlessly into the vent above him and replaced the grating. Maneuvering himself around in the slightly awkward confines of the ventilation duct, he turned himself around and began to slink his way silently back towards the surface.

Several minutes later, Sly found himself once again perched on the building across the street from Celine's shop. After relaying the pictures and information back to Bentley, who had in turn relayed new targets, he made a brief bound off the edge and made his way to the next point of interest.

…...


	19. TMT - Reservations and Revelations

Chapter 19 - "Tailor-Made Terror" - Reservations and Revelations

"There... This is not..." Bentley hunched closer to his computer monitor, his eyes darting across every detail of the picture that now flickered across the screen. To those less well-versed in the varying theories and arguably pseudo-scientific studies of universal alteration, it would have been just a metal archway covered in lights. But to him...

He reached up and hastily readjusted his glasses, hoping that the less-than-desirable lighting conditions of the back room that he had set up shop in were playing some cruel trick on him. There was just no way that someone else had access to this level of technology, then again, none of this damn Numbers mess had played by any of the 'rules' that he had grown accustomed to. He leaned back with a huff, agitating the dust that had landed on the back of his chair in the process and sending himself into a brief fit of sneezing. Blinking away the irritation, he flipped open a small PDA next to his laptop and began to enter a few strings of seemingly random numbers in the hopes of making sense of what he was looking at. Scrunching his face, obviously unhappy with the resulting outcome, he flicked the device away and leaned back in towards his computer, opening the communication tab in the same movement.

The screen glowed dimly for a few moments before the shadowy outline of Sly appeared.

"What's up Bentley?

Bentley began to idly bring his PDA back closer to him, eyeing the numbers that still glowed defiantly in the corner. "Are you almost finished with reconnaissance?"

The turtles uncharacteristically blunt question came off as more of a statement, and caught Sly momentarily off guard. Blinking twice, Sly shook his head and leaned in closer. "Yeah, I am. Is something wrong?"

Bentley dragged both hands slowly downwards across his face, sighing. "There may have to be a slight expedition of the schedule at hand."

Sly raised an eyebrow, unblinking.

Bentley sighed again. "We need to hurry up with everything we need to get done. I've been looking over the photos you've sent in and, if they're of what I think they are, we don't have much time. I need you to finish up and get back to the safe-house as soon as possible so we can get a plan going."

"Roger that. I've got a few things I'd like to bring up as well."

"Oh?"

Sly seemed to shy away momentarily, unsure of what to say next. This did not pass unnoticed by the turtle. "...Yeah, but let's save it for when we're all together. Sitting Duck out."

Bentley grinned hearing his friend use the field name he was given years ago as the connection fizzled out. Closing his laptop, deciding that he had learned everything from the pictures that he could, he began to wheel himself out of the store-room. Seeing as there was nothing left to do until Sly could verify what he had seen, he decided to try out a hunch of his to see if he could try and figure out what was bothering his raccoon friend. Passing by Murray, who was contenting himself with a bag of chips and a long outdated magazine that he had found stashed away in a cabinet, he wheeled himself into what had been designated as the 'main-room' to find Carmelita, Claire, and Penelope talking animatedly at the table. Clearing his throat as he approached, he drew the attention of the group and looked at them in sequence. His movements slowed as he suddenly became aware of what exactly he was doing, as well as the sets of eyes that were now directed unblinkingly at him. He almost excused himself back to his 'office' to let his adrenaline levels return to normal levels, as approaching others with anything less than a well-rehearsed plan was most certainly out of character for the introverted turtle. He cleared his throat once again and tugged at the collar of his shell, suddenly finding himself much warmer than he had been seconds before as his confidence in approaching the trio quickly fell away. "Uhh..."

The three at the table briefly looked towards each other before turning their attention back to the turtle.

Clearing his throat for a third time, he finally mustered the strength to speak up. "Carmelita, could I maybe... talk to you alone for a few minutes?"

The fox shifted in her seat, crossing her legs as she nodded to the raccoon and mouse across from her. Claire stood and excused herself, quickly followed by Penelope in order to leave the two alone.

Carmelita began to drum her fingers impatiently as the seconds of silence ticked by.

"Sorry," Bentley began, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Still not used to this. What with the, you know, 'used-to-be-mortal-enemies' and all..."

Carmelita gave him a crooked look. "I thought we were past this, Bentley. I'm not here to do anything underhanded. It's not like I like being dragged along with you all, but holding grudges wouldn't help me feel any better about it." She began to fidget idly with the ring on her left hand, cocking her head in the other direction.

The turtle seemed to perk up slightly hearing this, Carmelita noting to herself that he was starting to slowly 'come out of his shell' in regards to the newest members of the gang. "Right... sorry. I guess I should just cut right to it then..." There was a beat of silence. "What's going on between you and Sly?"

It was only through sheer force of will that Carmelita managed to stay upright in her chair, the shock of the question knocking her sense of balance completely askew. The turtle rolled forwards to help, but she held an arm out to stop him, letting him know that it wouldn't be necessary. "Sorry, it's just..." She sighed and leaned back in her chair, again toying with her ring in an effort to reset her mind.

Bentley looked down to see what she was fussing with, and then froze. "...He didn't."

Carmelita traced the path of his eyes, suddenly becoming very self-conscious of the gleaming band occupying a spot on her left hand.

The turtle's expression went completely blank. "You've been back together a week, and he asked you to marry him."

Carmelita laughed uncomfortably. "You know how Sly is, right?"

"And it's cutting years off of my life." He began to massage his temples. That friend of his... "Look, I don't care what you two decide to do, that's none of my business and I want nothing to do with it," his expression steeled as he met the eyes of the fox across from him. Any trace of the trepidation and uncertainty that was present earlier had been completely flushed away. "But do not hurt him again."

"Bentley," she began, only to be cut off with the brisk wave of a green hand

"Don't 'Bentley' me, Inspector. Do you know what it was like when Sly first came back? We were all so excited to see the guy that it took us a while to see just how broken he was."

Carmelita twitched at the word 'broken', the grating way that the turtle said it left an unpleasant feeling in the air between them.

"He tried to hide it. Y'know, act all 'excited to be back' while making jokes about how you kicked him out for being too much of a nuisance or something ridiculous like that. I didn't sleep for a solid week for hearing him sobbing in the room next to mine. Any time I tried to bring it up, he brushed it off and went outside to sit on the roof. Sometimes for hours at a time. Damn near got himself killed when the colder months rolled around."

"And you think I had it much better off, right?" Her voice bristled, but any attempt at anger was fully lost as she saw her own experience reflected in the glasses of the one across from her. "My parents were so happy to know that I had finally found someone, maybe even more excited than I was about it all." She closed her eyes, taking off her ring and twisting it between her fingers. "I guess I just couldn't get over who I knew he really was... I wanted to give him everything, but I was always worried. This little Spanish girl was so happy to have her happy ending, though, that I guess I just bottled everything up. When he finally told me," she paused, slipping the ring back over her finger and clenching her hand into a fist. "When he finally told me the truth about his memories, I didn't know how to respond.

"I wanted to fall for the _real_ Sly, and when he told me the truth, he might as well have just said he had been lying about the entire relationship as far as I cared. He had been hiding himself from me, right under my nose. With this, though..." she unclenched her hand and held it up to him, her voice strengthening with every word, "He asked me to marry him as the _real _Sly; not some amnesiac imposter. That's all I ever wanted from the start, I just didn't know how I could make it happen without some sort of miracle."

"A 'miracle' sure is a funny way of looking at this whole mess."

The fox huffed in agreement, and then reached up to wipe a bead of sweat that had been bothering her. "Is it getting hotter in here, to you?"

The turtle stilled himself, as if focusing for a moment, and then nodded his agreement. "That's odd. It's..." He stopped and yawned, "Way too cold outside for this."

Carmelita stood up, yawing herself before turning to the turtle. "I'm going to call it a night. If Sly comes back tonight, tell him which room I'm in."

Bentley closed his eyes and nodded, placing his head between his hands as another massive yawn washed over him. Counting back in his mind, he had slept maybe twice since Sly had brought an unconscious Carmelita to their safe-house. As much as he hated to admit it, he wouldn't be able to get a good enough plan of attack together at this level of exhaustion. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure Carmelita had left, he leaned forwards and rested his head on the table, falling fast asleep only a few moments later.

**… **

Sly gently closed the window behind him as he made his entry back into the safe-house. As silently as always, he padded down the dim hallways of the old tea shop while trying to keep the incessant thoughts of what they were up against later on from overtaking his mind. Planning to take the room he had found the safe in earlier to himself, he reached down to unlatch the door when he heard mumbling coming from somewhere off to his left. Ears perked, he turned and gently pushed the door next to him open a few inches, peering inside.

Sly could just barely make out what looked like an air mattress in the corner of the room, and another string of mumbles confirmed to him that it was occupied by Carmelita. Letting himself in, he carefully pulled the door to behind him and took a quick look around, having not been in this room before. Finding a suitable ledge, he placed his cane and cap on top of it and began to undress, as the heat of the room had done its job warding off the cold of the night he had left behind.

Rolling his shoulders, now satisfactorily disrobed, he pulled back just enough of the thin sheet covering the fox in front of him to lower himself into bed alongside her.

"You're not as quiet as you think you are," she mumbled sleepily, stretching her arms out above her head, eyes still closed.

Sly froze, and then let out a long sigh as he finished crawling underneath the sheet next to her. "Chalk it up to old age." He wiggled himself lower down beneath the covering, being sure to leave ample space between himself and Carmelita.

She lowered her arms from her stretch and placed them across her chest, atop the blanket. Turning her head towards him, her right ear pinned between her head and the pillow in adorable fashion, she cracked open her eyes. "No forced contact? Who are you and what have you done with my fiancée," she deadpanned.

Sly allowed a quiet, hollow laugh. Unable, or perhaps unwilling to find a retort, he turned on to his side facing away from her and closed his eyes.

Narrowing her eyes in the darkness, Carmelita propped herself up on an elbow, holding the blanket to her chest with her free arm. "Is everything ok, Sly?" She prodded quietly, her voice tinged with genuine concern at the raccoon's uncharacteristically icy demeanor.

"Just... tired."

"I don't believe you." She inched herself towards him, draping an arm across him and pulling herself close. She nuzzled into his shoulder, holding on to him tightly. Feeling Sly release much of the tension in his shoulders at her action, she relaxed as well, allowing her head to drop back to the pillow.

Feeling her fur against his, Sly scooted closer. "Are you not wearing any-"

"Say anything about it, and I'll hurt you." She huffed. "It was hot."

"Suits me." Sly spun around slowly to his other side, taking care to not draw the blanket off of her. Bringing her into an embrace, he buried his head into her hair much like she had done to him. His voice, soft and muffled, tickled at her ears as he spoke. "Why don't you believe me?"

Carmelita brought her other arm around him, not shying away from the contact. "Because you're getting defensive."

"Defensive?"

"Mmhmm," she replied with a yawn, making herself comfortable against him despite the heat. "And I'm too sleepy to argue with you, so spit it out." She felt Sly tense himself slightly beneath her touch again.

"Not even a little argument?"

She responded by nipping him gently on the shoulder, causing Sly to relax once more. "Keep doing that," he continued, "and I'll find a reason to argue."

She drew her head back and away from him, looking into his eyes through the darkness. Gone was the usual fire and determination from his gaze, instead replaced by uncertainty and hesitation. It was a look she had seen him display only a handful of times, and it never lead to anything good. "Sly..." she prodded, his eyes looking momentarily away.

"I'm just... tired," he closed his eyes. "Of everything."

Carmelita bit gently on the tip of his nose, not contented with his answer.

Sly nuzzled his head back down, hiding his face. "I just keep thinking about what we're all going to do once this is over. I don't know if I want to keep the gang together."

Carmelita's expression shifted, not expecting this from him. "They're your friends, Sly. You can't just kick them all out."

He shifted uncomfortably, the fabric of the sheet against him now feeling far too restrictive as he tried to focus on anything but the conversation at hand. "Then what do I do? If we stay together, sooner or later someone is going to get hurt."

"Like Bentley?"

Sly went silent, lying motionless next to her.

_Oh dammit that was not the right thing to say. _She kept silent, letting the seconds tick painfully by as she racked her mind for something to say.

"Yeah, like Bentley. Clockwerk was one of _my _demons, and he hurt one of my only friends. I don't want that to happen again, but I know trouble is just going to keep following me. I could just leave, let them move on..."

"Did they move on when you 'lost your memory'?" The tone of her voice had shifted considerably, her usual fire and aggression working its way back in. "They're your FRIENDS, Sly."

"And that's what has me worried..." His voice didn't rise to meet hers. "I don't want anything bad to happen. I know we all belong out here, in the thick of it, but I just know something is going to happen. Something bad is going to happen and they're still going to stick with me through it. They'll stick with me until the next bad thing happens, and then the next, and then the next..." He was doing everything he could to hold back tears, failing miserably at it. "And then the next, and then the next... They'll stick with me through all of it. Until one of them goes and gets themselves killed.

And then, if anyone is left, they'll stick with me after that. None of us deserve that."

Carmelita began to stroke up and down his arm in a bid to comfort him, shushing quietly intermittently. "They are your friends, Sly. That's what they do. I know very well that you would never let anything happen to them, though."

"But what if I do?"

"Hush. Remember when the Contessa had me brainwashed? I was fighting _against_ you, and you still went out of your way to get me out of there unharmed." She gripped loosely on his shoulder, pulling him closer. "You and I both know that you would never let anything happen to your friends, no matter what."

"But-"

"I can do this all night, Ringtail. None of you _deserve _anything, unless you count the little voice in the back of my head that still says you need to be behind bars."

Sly let out a humorless chuckle.

"You all are closer friends than anything I've ever seen, and being there for each other, no matter what, comes along with that. You dragged me back to your hideout, and the first thing your friends do is help me. No questions. If anything, I don't deserve how I've been treated after everything I've done." She sighed deeply, fidgeting with her ring that she had kept on. "But here I am, engaged to your _culo loco. _Bentley knows, by the way."

Sly lifted his head out of its tear-stained burrow, looking at her incredulously. "He what?" He dug his arm out of the blanket and wiped it across his face, refocusing his vision. "He... what? How did he," he took a moment to sniff back a few more tears, his face slowly regaining its composure. "How did he find out?"

Carmelita prodded him in the side with her ring. "Those giant glasses he wears aren't just for show."

Sly laughed again, a bit of the warmth returning to his voice. He propped himself up on and elbow, looking down at her. "What did he say?"

"He said you were dumb," a laugh, "and then... he made me promise not to hurt you. He might have told me about how you were after last time..."

"I'm surprised he hasn't planted a bomb in your bed yet."

It was Carmelita's turn to laugh. "With how he looked at me, I was scared he was going to." She propped herself up and planted a quick kiss on Sly's muzzle, which was reciprocated warmly. "He doesn't have anything to worry about, though." Another kiss, this time lingering. "You're mine, and I'm never letting you go. I've waited this long, so you're stuck with me. If something happens, I'll be there for you." Another kiss. "And the next thing after that, I'll be there for you." Another kiss. "And the next thing after that..." She drew herself closer, assaulting him with a barrage of gentle kisses before snuggling up contentedly.

"And the next thing after that?"

She responded by mumbling sleepily, yawning deeply and placing a hand over his mouth. Sly, resting his head backwards and wrapping his arms gently around the now dozing fox, yawned cavernously around her hand, which she withdrew close to herself.

He tried to recess once more back into his thoughts, but the allure of sleep and the soft coat of his love next to him did wonders to draw him into unconsciousness. Closing his eyes for the last time that night, he thought maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok.

**_AN: _**_I'm not dead, and neither is this story. For all five of you still following this thing, Surely there are better things you could be doing with your time instead of following this dumb thing. I'm still going to finish it, so don't worry about that, but God only knows how chapter updates are going to come along. I know I say it every time, but they should actually really ACTUALLY REALLY be short times between updates this time around. Thank you all again for reading this. It's been almost FOUR YEARS since I started this thing, and I've grown quite attached to this thing over time. Expect more._

_-Jacob_


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